within reach,—not of his bow and arrows; nor yet of his long spear,—for
he did not use it for such a purpose,—and, of course, not of a gun, for
he never had heard of such a weapon. Within reach of what then? Of a
weapon peculiarly his own,—a weapon of singular construction and deadly
effect; which he knew how to employ before ever the white man came upon
his shores, and which the Spaniards who dwell in the Pampas country have
found both pride and profit in adopting. This weapon is the “bolas.”
It is simple and easily described. Two round stones,—the women make them
round by grinding the one against the other,—two round stones are
covered with a piece of guanaco raw hide, presenting very much the
appearance of cricket-balls, though of unequal size,—one being
considerably smaller than the other. Two thongs are cut; and one end of
each is firmly attached to one of the balls.
The other ends of the thongs are knotted to each other; and when the
strings are at full stretch, the balls will then be about eight feet
apart,—in other words, each thong should be four feet in length. The
bolas are now made, and ready for use. The chief difficulty in their
manufacture lies in the rounding of the stones; which, as above
observed, is the work of the women; and at least two days are required
to grind a pair of bola-stones to the proper spherical shape. To handle
them requires long practice; and this the Patagonian has had: for, ever
since the young giant was able to stand upon his feet, he has been in
the habit of playing with the bolas. They have been the toy of his
childhood; and to display skill in their management has been the pride
of his boyish days; therefore, on arriving at full maturity, no wonder
he exhibits great dexterity in their use. He can then project them to a
distance of fifty yards,—with such precision as to strike the legs of
either man or quadruped, and with such force, that the thong not only
whips itself around the object struck, but often leaves a deep weal in
the skin and flesh. The mode of throwing them is well known. The right
hand only is used; and this grasps the thongs at their point of union,
about half-way between the ends. The balls are then whirled in a
circular motion around the head and, when sufficient centrifugal power
has been obtained, the weapon is launched at the object to be captured.
The aim is a matter of nice calculation,—in which arm, eye, and mind,
all bear a part,—and so true is this aim, in Patagonian practice, that
the hunter seldom fails to bring down or otherwise cripple his game,—be
it ostrich, cavy, or guanaco.
By these bolas, then, did the Patagonian hunter capture the guanaco and
ostrich in times past; and by the same weapon does he still capture
them: for he can use it even better on horseback than on foot. Either
the bird or the quadruped, within fifty yards, has no chance of escape
from his unerring aim.
The bolas, in some districts, have been improved upon by the
introduction of a third ball; but this the Patagonian does not consider
an _improvement_. Wooden balls are sometimes employed; and iron ones,
where they can be had,—the last sort can be projected to the greatest
distance.
The Patagonian takes the young guanacos alive; and brings them up in a
state of domestication. The little creatures may often be observed,
standing outside the tents of a Patagonian encampment,—either tied by a
string, or held in hand by some “infant giant” of the tribe. It is not
solely for the pleasure of making pets of them, that the young guanacos
are thus cherished; nor yet to raise them for food. The object aimed at
has a very different signification. These young guanacos are intended to
be used as _decoys_: for the purpose of attracting their own
relatives,—fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, uncles, and aunts, even
to the most distant thirty-second cousinship,—within reach of the
terrible bolas!
This is effected by tying the innocent little creature to some
bush,—behind which the hunter conceals himself,—and then imitating the
mother’s call; which the Indian hunter can do with all the skill of a
ventriloquist. The young captive responds with the plaintive cry of
captivity,—the parents are soon attracted to the spot, and fall victims
to their instinct of natural affection. Were it not for this, and
similar stratagems adopted by the Patagonian hunter, he would pursue the
guanaco in vain. Even with the help of his pack of dogs, and mounted
upon the fleet Spanish horse, the guanaco cannot be hunted with success.
Nature, in denying to these animals almost every means of defence, has
also bestowed upon them a gift which enables them to escape from many
kinds of danger. Of mild and inoffensive habits,—defenceless as the
hare,—they are also possessed of a like swiftness. Indeed, there is
perhaps no quadruped—not even the antelope—can get over the ground as
speedily as the guanaco or its kindred species the vicuña, Both are
swift as the wind; and the eye, following either in its retreat over the
level plain, or up the declivity of a hill, is deluded into the fancy
that it is watching some great bird upon the wing.
There are certain seasons during which the guanaco is much more
difficult to approach than at other times; but this is true of almost
every species of animal,—whether bird or quadruped. Of course, the tame
season is that of sexual intercourse, when even the wild beasts become
reckless under the influence of passion. At other times the guanacos are
generally very shy; and sometimes extremely so. It is not uncommon for a
herd of them to take the alarm, and scamper off from the hunter, even
before the latter has approached near enough to be himself within sight
of them! They possess great keenness of scent, but it is the eye which
usually proves their friend, warning them of the approach of an
enemy—especially if that enemy be a man upon horseback—before the latter
is aware of their proximity. Often a cloud of dust, rising afar off over
the plain, is the only proof the hunter can obtain, that there was game
within the range of his vision. It is a curious circumstance connected
with hunting on these great plains,—both on the Pampas and in
Patagonia,—that a man on foot can approach much nearer to any game than
if he were mounted upon a horse. This is true not only in relation to
the guanaco and ostrich, but also of the large Pampas deer (_cervus
campestris_); and indeed of almost every animal that inhabits these
regions. The reason is simple enough. All these creatures are accustomed
to seeing their human enemy only on horseback: for “still hunting,” or
hunting afoot, is rarely or never practised upon the plains. Not only
that, but a man on foot, would be a rare sight either to an ostrich or
guanaco; and they would scarce recognize him as an enemy! Curiosity
would be their leading sentiment; and, being influenced by this, the
hunter on foot can often approach them without difficulty. The
Patagonian, knowing this peculiarity, not infrequently takes advantage
of it, to kill or capture both the bird and the quadruped.
This sentiment of the brute creation, on the plains of Patagonia, is
directly the reverse of what may be observed in our own fields. The sly
crow shows but little of this shyness, so long as you approach it on a
horse’s back; but only attempt to steal up to it on foot,—even with a
thick hawthorn hedge to screen you,—and every fowler knows how wary the
bird can prove itself. Some people pronounce this _instinct_. If so,
instinct and reason must be one and the same thing.
Besides hunting the guanaco, much of the Patagonian’s time is spent in
the chase of the ostrich; and, to circumvent this shy creature, he
adopts various _ruses_. The American ostrich, or more properly _rhea_,
has many habits in common with its African congener. One of these is,
when pursued it runs in a straight track, and, if possible, _against_
the wind. Aware of this habit, the Patagonians pursue it on
horseback,—taking the precaution to place some of their party in ambush
in the direction which the bird is most likely to run. They then gallop
hastily up to the line of flight, and either intercept the _rhea_
altogether, or succeed in “hoppling” it with the bolas. The moment these
touch its long legs, both are drawn suddenly together; and the bird goes
down as if shot!
Drake and other voyagers have recorded the statement that the
Patagonians attract the rhea within reach, by disguising themselves in a
skin of this bird. This is evidently an untruth; and the error, whether
wilful or otherwise, derives its origin from the fact, that a stratagem
of the kind is adopted by the Bushmen of Africa to deceive the ostrich.
But what is practicable and possible between a pigmy Bushman and a
gigantic African ostrich, becomes altogether impracticable and
improbable, when the _dramatis personæ_ are a gigantic Patagonian and an
American _rhea_. Moreover, it is also worthy of remark, that the _rhea_
of the Patagonian plains is not the larger of the two species of
American ostrich, but the smaller one (_rhea Darwinii_), which has been
lately specifically named after the celebrated naturalist. And justly
does Mr. Darwin merit the honor: since he was the first to give a
scientific description of the bird. He was not the first, however,—as he
appears himself to believe,—to discover its existence, or to give a
record of it in writing. The old Styrian monk, Dobrizhoffer, two
centuries before Mr. Darwin was born, in his “History of the Abipones”
clearly points to the fact that there were two distinct species of the
“avestruz,” or South-American ostrich.
Mr. Darwin, however, has confirmed Dobrizhoffer’s account; and brought
both birds home with him; and he, who chooses to reflect upon the
subject, will easily perceive how impossible it would be for a
Patagonian to conceal his bulky _corpus_ under the skin of a _rhea
Darwinii_, or even that of its larger congener, the _rhea_ _Americana_.
The skin of either would be little more than large enough to form a cap
for the _colossus_ of the Patagonian plains.
In the more fertile parts of Patagonia, the large deer (_cervus
campestris_) is found. These are also hunted by the Patagonian, and
their flesh is esteemed excellent food; not, however, until it has lain
several days buried underground,—for it requires this funereal process,
to rid it of the rank, goat-like smell, so peculiar to the species. The
mode of hunting this deer—at least that most likely to insure success—is
by stealing forward to it on foot.
Sometimes a man may approach it, within the distance of a few
yards,—even when there is no cover to shelter him,—by walking gently up
to it. Of all the other quadrupeds of the Pampas,—and these plains are
its favorite _habitat_,—the _cervus campestris_ most dreads the
horseman:—since its enemy always appears in that guise; and it has
learnt the destructive power of both lazo and bolas, by having witnessed
their effects upon its comrades. The hunter dismounted has no terrors
for it; and if he will only keep lazo and bolas out of sight,—for these
it can distinguish, as our crow does the gun,—he may get near enough to
fling either one or the other with a fatal precision.
The “agouti” (_cavia Patagonica_) frequently furnishes the Patagonian
with a meal. This species is a true denizen of the desert plains of
Patagonia; and forms one of the characteristic features of their
landscape. I need not describe its generic characters; and specifically
it has been long known as the “Patagonian cavy.” Its habits differ very
little from the other South-American animals of this rodent
genus,—except that, unlike the great capivare, it does not affect to
dwell near the water. It is altogether a denizen of dry plains, in which
it burrows, and upon which it may be seen browsing, or hopping at
intervals from one point to another, like a gigantic rabbit or hare. In
fact, the cavies appear to be the South-American representatives of the
hare family,—taking their place upon all occasions; and, though of many
different species,—according to climate, soil, and other
circumstances,—yet agreeing with the hares in most of their
characteristic habits. So much do some of the species assimilate to
these last, that colonial sportsmen are accustomed to give them the
Old-World appellation of the celebrated swift-footed rodent. The
Patagonian cavies are much larger than English hares,—one of them will
weigh twenty-five pounds,—but, in other respects, there is a great deal
of resemblance. On a fine evening, three or four cavies may be seen
squatted near each other, or hopping about over the plains, one
following the other in a direct line, as if they were all proceeding on
the same errand! Just such a habit is frequently observed among hares
and rabbits in a field of young corn or fallow.
The Patagonian boys and women often employ themselves in seeking out the
ostriches’ nests, and robbing them of their eggs,—which last they find
good eating. In the nests of the smaller species which we have already
stated to be the most common in the Patagonian country,—they are not
rewarded so liberally for their trouble. Only from sixteen to twenty
eggs are hatched by the _rhea Darwinii_ and about twenty-five to thirty
by the _rhea Americana_. It will be seen, that this is far below the
number obtained from the nest of the African ostrich (_struthio
camelus_),—in which as many as sixty or seventy eggs are frequently
found. It would appear, therefore, that the greater the size of the
bird, belonging to this genus the greater the number of its brood. Both
the American rheas follow the peculiar habit of the true ostrich: that
is, several hens deposit their eggs in the same nest; and the male bird
assists in the process of incubation. Indeed, in almost every
respect—except size and general color of plumage—the American and
African ostriches resemble each other very closely; and there is no
reason in the world why a pedantic compiler should have bestowed upon
them distinct generic names. Both are true _camel birds_: both alike the
offspring, as they are the ornament, of the desert land.
Another occupation in which the Patagonian engages—and which sometimes
rewards him with a meal—is the snaring of the Pampas partridge
(_nothuria major_). This is usually the employment of the more youthful
giants; and is performed both on foot and on horseback. A small species
of partridge is taken on foot; but the larger kind can be snared best
from the back of a horse. The mode is not altogether peculiar to
Patagonia: since it is also practised in other parts of America,—both
north and south,—and the bustard is similarly captured upon the _karoos_
of Africa. During the noon hours of the day, the performance takes
place: that is, when the sun no longer casts a shadow. The locality of
the bird being first ascertained, the fowler approaches it, as near as
it will allow. He then commences riding round, and round, and
round,—being all the while watched by the foolish bird, that, in
constantly turning its head, appears to grow giddy, and loses all dread
of danger. The Indian each moment keeps lessening his circle; or, in
other words, approaches by a spiral line, continually closing upon its
centre. His only weapon is a long light reed,—something like the common
kind of cane fishing-rod, seen in the hands of rustic youth in our own
country. On the end of this reed he has adjusted a stiff snare; the
noose of which is made from the epidermis of an ostrich plume, or a
piece of the split quill; and which, being both stiff and elastic,
serves admirably for the purpose for which it is designed.
Having at length arrived within a proper distance to reach the beguiled
bird, the boy softly stops his horse, bends gently sideward, and,
adroitly passing his noose over the neck of the partridge, jerks the
silly creature into the air. In this way an Indian boy will capture a
dozen of these birds in a few hours; and might obtain far more, if the
sun would only stay all day in the zenith. But as the bright orb sinks
westward, the elongated shadow of the horseman passes over the partridge
before the latter is within reach of the snare; and this alarming the
creature, causes it to take flight.
The Patagonian builds no house; nor does he remain long in one place at
a time. The sterile soil upon which he dwells requires him to lead a
nomade life; passing from place to place in search of game. A tent is
therefore his home; and this is of the simplest kind: the tent-cloth
consisting of a number of guanaco skins stitched together, and the poles
being such as he can obtain from the nearest tract of thicket or
_chapparal_. The poles are set bow-fashion in the ground, and over these
the skin covering is spread,—one of the bent poles being left uncovered,
to serve as a doorway. Most of the Patagonian’s time is occupied in
procuring game: which, as we have seen, is his sole sustenance; and when
he has any leisure moments, they are given to the care of his horse, or
to the making or repairing his weapons for the chase. Above all, the
bolas are his especial pride, and ever present with him. When not in
actual use, they are suspended from his girdle, or tied sash-like around
his waist,—the balls dangling down like a pair of tassels.
Only during his hours of sleep, is this national weapon ever out of the
hands of the Patagonian giant. Had the wonderful giant of our nurseries
been provided with such a sling, it is probable that little Jack would
have found in him an adversary more difficult to subdue!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE FUEGIAN DWARFS.
The great continent of South America, tapering like a tongue to the
southward, ends abruptly on the Straits of Magellan. These straits may
be regarded as a sort of natural canal, connecting the Atlantic with the
Pacific Ocean, winding between high rocky shores, and indented with
numerous bays and inlets. Though the water is of great depth, the
Straits themselves are so narrow that a ship passing through need never
lose sight of land on either side; and in many places a shell, projected
from an ordinary howitzer, would pitch clear across them from shore to
shore! The country extending northward from these straits is, as already
seen, called _Patagonia_; that which lies on their southern side is the
famed “land of fire,” _Tierra del Fuego_.
The canal, or channel, of the Straits of Magellan does not run in a
direct line from the Atlantic to the Pacific. On the contrary, a ship
entering from the former, instead of passing due west, must first run in
a southwest direction,—rather more south than west. This course will
continue, until the ship is about half-way between the two oceans. She
will then head almost at a right angle to her former course; and keep
this direction—which is nearly due northwest—until she emerges into the
Pacific.
It will thus be seen, that the Straits form an angle near their middle;
and the point of land which projects into the vertex of this angle, and
known to navigators as Cape Forward, is the most southern land of the
American _continent_. Of course this is not meant to apply to the most
southern point of American land,—since Tierra del Fuego must be
considered as part of South America. The far-famed “Cape Horn” is the
part of America nearest to the South Pole; and this is a promontory on
one of the small elevated islands lying off the southern coast of Tierra
del Fuego itself. Tierra del Fuego was for a long time regarded as a
single island; though, even in the voyage of Magellan, several large
inlets, that resembled channels, were observed running into the land;
and it was suspected by that navigator, that these inlets might be
passages leading through to the ocean. Later surveys have proved that
the conjectures of the Spano-Portuguese voyager were well founded; and
it is now known that instead of a single island, the country called
Tierra del Fuego is a congeries of many islands, of different shapes and
sizes,—separated from one another by deep and narrow channels, or arms
of the sea, with an endless ramification of sounds and inlets. In the
western part—and occupying more than three fourths of their whole
territory—these close-lying islands are nothing else than
mountains,—several of them rising five thousand feet above the level of
the water, and stepping directly down to it, without any foot-hills
intervening! Some of them have their lower declivities covered with
sombre forests while, farther up, nothing appears but the bare brown
rocks, varied with blue glaciers, or mottled with masses of snow. The
more elevated peaks are covered with snow that never melts; since their
summits rise considerably above the snow-line of this cold region.
These mountain-islands of Tierra del Fuego continue on to Cape Horn, and
eastward to the Straits of Le Maire, and the bleak islet of Staaten
Land. They may, in fact, be considered as the continuation of the great
chain of the Andes, if we regard the intersecting channels—including
that of Magellan itself—as mere clefts or ravines, the bottoms of which,
lying below the level of the sea, have been filled with sea-water.
Indeed, we may rationally take this view of the case: since these
channels bear a very great resemblance to the stupendous ravines termed
“barrancas” and “quebradas,” which intersect the Cordilleras of the
Andes in other parts of South America,—as also in the northern division
of the American continent.
Regarding the Straits of Magellan, then, and the other channels of
Tierra del Fuego, as great _water-barrancas_, we may consider the Andes
as terminating at Cape Horn itself, or rather at Staaten Land: since
that island is a still more distant extension of this, the longest chain
of mountains on the globe.
Another point may be here adduced, in proof of the rationality of this
theory. The western, or mountainous part of Tierra del Fuego bears a
strong resemblance to the western section of the continent,—that is, the
part occupied by the Andes. For a considerable distance to the north of
the Magellan Straits, nearly one half of the continental land is of a
mountainous character. It is also indented by numerous sounds and
inlets, resembling those of Tierra del Fuego; while the mountains that
hang over these deep-water ravines are either timbered, or bare of trees
and snow-covered, exhibiting glacier valleys, like those farther south.
The whole physical character is similar; and, what is a still more
singular fact, we find that in the western, or mountainous part of
Patagonia, there are no true Patagonians; but that there the
water-Indians, or Fuegians, frequent the creeks and inlets.
Again, upon the east,—or rather northeast of Tierra del Fuego,—that
angular division of it, which lies to the north of the Sabastian channel
presents us with physical features that correspond more nearly with
those of the plains of Patagonia; and upon this part we find tribes of
Indians that beyond doubt are true Patagonians,—and not Fuegians, as
they have been described. This will account for the fact that some
navigators have seen people on the Fuegian side that were large-bodied
men, clothed in guanaco skins, and exhibiting none of those wretched
traits which characterize the Fuegians; while, on the other hand,
miserable, stunted men are known to occupy the mountainous western part
of Patagonia. It amounts to this,—that the Patagonians _have_ crossed
the Straits of Magellan; and it is this people, and not Fuegians, who
are usually seen upon the champaign lands north of the Sebastian
channel. Even the guanaco has crossed at the same place,—for this
quadruped, as well as a species of deer, is found in the eastern
division of Tierra del Fuego. Perhaps it was the camel-sheep—which
appears to be almost a necessity of the Patagonian’s existence—that
first induced these water-hating giants to make so extensive a voyage as
that of crossing the Straits at Cape Orange!