from plants and trees, but destroy every other sort of vegetable
substance that they may fancy to seize upon. The clothes in a chest or
wardrobe, the papers in a desk, and the books in a library, have all at
times been consumed by their devastating hosts, when foraging for food,
or for materials out of which to construct their singular dwellings.
These dwellings are of as many different kinds as there are species of
ants. Some are of conical shape, as large as a soldier's tent. Some
resemble hillocks or great mounds, extending over the ground to a
circumference of many yards. Others represent oblong ridges, traversed
by numerous underground galleries, while some species make their
dwellings in deep horizontal tunnels, or excavations, often extending
under the bed of broad rivers. Many kinds lead an arboreal life, and
their nests may be seen sticking like huge excrescences to the trunks of
the forest-trees, and as often suspended from the branches.
To give a detailed account of the different kinds of Amazonian ants,--to
describe only their appearance and ordinary habits,--would require, not
a chapter, but a large volume. Their domestic economy, the modes of
constructing their domiciles, the manner of propagating their species,
their social distinction into classes or castes, the odd relations that
exists between the separate castes of a community, the division of
labour, their devotion to what some writers, imbued with monarchical
ideas, have been pleased to term their _queen_,--who in reality is an
individual _elected_ for a special purpose, render these insects almost
an anomaly in nature. It is not to be expected that the uneducated
Indian could give any scientific explanation of such matters. He only
knew that there were many curious things in connection with the ants,
and their indoor as well as out-door life, which he had himself
observed,--and these particulars he communicated.
He could tell strange tales of the _Termites_, or white ants, which are
not ants at all,--only so called from a general resemblance to the
latter in many of their habits. He dwelt longest on the sort called
_Saubas_, or leaf-carrying ants, of which he knew a great number of
species, each building its hill in a different manner from the others.
Of all the species of South American ants, perhaps none surprises the
stranger so much as the sauba. On entering a tract of forest, or
passing a patch of cultivated ground, the traveller will come to a place
where the whole surface is strewn with pieces of green leaves, each
about the size of a dime, and all in motion. On examining these leafy
fragments more closely, he will discover that each is borne upon the
shoulders of a little insect not nearly so big as its burden.
Proceeding onward he will come to a tree, where thousands of these
insects are at work cutting the leaves into pieces of the proper size,
and flinging them down to thousands of others, who seize upon and carry
them off. On still closer scrutiny, he will observe that all this work
is being carried on in systematic order,--that there are some of the
insects differently shaped from the rest,--some performing the actual
labour, while the others are acting as guards and overseers. Were he to
continue his observation, he would find that the leaves thus transported
were not used as food, but only as thatch for covering the galleries and
passages through which these countless multitudes make their way from
one place to another. He would observe, moreover, so many singular
habits and manoeuvres of the little crawling creatures, that he would
depart from the spot filled with surprise, and unable to explain more
than a tenth part of what he had seen.
Continuing his excursion, he would come upon ants differing from the
saubas not only in species, but in the most essential characteristics of
life. There would be the _Ecitons_, or foraging ants, which instead of
contenting themselves by feeding upon the luxurious vegetation of the
tropics, would be met upon one of their predatory forays,--the object of
their expedition being to destroy some colony of their own kind, if not
of their own species. It may be that the foraging party belong to the
species known as _Eciton-rapax_,--the giant of its genus, in which many
individuals measure a full half-inch in length. If so, they will be
proceeding in single file through the forest, in search of the nests of
a defenceless vegetable-feeding ant of the genus _Formica_. If they
have already found it, and are met on their homeward march towards their
own encampment, each will be seen holding in its mouth a portion of the
mangled remains of some victim of their rapacity.
Again, another species may be met travelling in broad columns,
containing millions of individuals, either on the way to kill and
plunder, or returning laden with the spoil. In either case they will
attack any creature that chances in their way,--man himself as readily
as the most defenceless animal. The Indian who encounters them retreats
upon his tracks, crying out, "_Tauoca_!" to warn his companions behind,
himself warned by the ant-thrushes whom he has espied hovering above the
creeping columns, and twittering their exulting notes, as at intervals
they swoop down to thin the moving legion.
Of all the kinds of ants known to the Mundurucu, there was none that
seemed to interest him more than that which had led to the
conversation,--the tocandeira, or, as the Brazilians term it, _formigade
fogo_ (fire-ant). Munday had worn the formidable mittens; and this
circumstance had no doubt left an impression upon his mind that the
tocandeira was the truest representative of spitefulness to be found in
the insect world.
Perhaps he was not far astray. Although an ant of ordinary size,--both
in this and general appearance not differing greatly from the common red
ant of England,--its bite and sting together are more dreaded than those
of any other species. It crawls upon the limbs of the pedestrian who
passes near its haunt, and, clutching his skin in its sharp pincer-like
jaws, with a sudden twitch of the tail it inserts its venomous sting
upon the instant, holding on after it has made the wound, and so
tenaciously that it is often torn to pieces while being detached. It
will even go out of its way to attack any one standing near. And at
certain landing-places upon some of the Amazonian rivers, the ground is
so occupied with its hosts that treading there is attended with great
danger. In fact, it is on record that settlements have been abandoned
on account of the fire-ant suddenly making its appearance, and becoming
the pest of the place.
Munday, in conclusion, declared that the tocandeiras were only found in
the dry forests and sandy _campos_; that he had never before seen one of
their swarms in the Gapo, and that these in the dead-wood must have
retreated thither in haste, to escape drowning when caught by the
inundation, and that the log had been afterwards drifted away by the
_echente_.
Whether this statement was true or not, the ants appeared to have made
up their minds to stay there, and permit no intruders to deprive them of
their new, strange domicile,--at all events until the _vasante_ might
enable them once more to set foot upon dry land.
CHAPTER SIXTY TWO.
THE ANTS STILL EXCITED.
At break of day the party were all awake; and after refreshing
themselves with a little _cheese_--which was only some coagulated milk
of the massaranduba, preserved in sapucaya-shells--they once more turned
their attention to the floating trunk. To their surprise, it was no
longer where they had left it!
There was a fog upon the water, but that was rapidly becoming
dissipated; and as the sun peeped over the tree-tops, the lagoa was
sufficiently free from mist for any dark object as large as a man's
head, within a mile's distance, to be distinguished. The manguba had
been left scarce a hundred yards from their sleeping-place. Where was
it now?
"Yonder!" said Munday, "close in by the trees. By our splashing in the
water, we started it from its moorings among the piosocas. There has
been a little breeze through the night, that has brought it this way.
It is now at anchor against yonder tree. I shouldn't wonder if the ants
would try to escape from it, and take to the branches above them. The
dead manguba is not their natural home; nor is the Gapo their
dwelling-place. The tocandeiras belong on land; and no one would expect
to find them here. They must have had their home in the hollow of the
log while it was lying on dry land. The _echente_ set it afloat while
they were inside, and the current has carried them far away from their
own country."
So they now turned to ascertain whether Munday's conjectures were true,
that the ants had taken to the tree that stood over the dead-wood, which
was at no great distance; and as the sun had now completely dispelled
the fog, they could see it very distinctly. The tocandeiras were still
upon it. Their countless hosts were seen moving over its surface in all
their red array, apparently as much excited as when putting to flight
the swimmers who had intruded upon them.
The log, although close to the stem of the standing tree, was not in
connection with it. Something held it several feet off; and as none of
the drooping branches reached quite down, it was impossible for the
insects to reach the tree, although they evidently desired to make this
change, as if suddenly dissatisfied with their quarters on the drifting
trunk, and wishing to change them for others less at the mercy of the
winds and waves.
As there was something curious in all this, something that could not
fail to fix the attention of the observer, our adventurers remained
silent, watching the movements of the insect multitude, in hopes that
they might find some way of detaching themselves from the floating log,
and leave in peaceable and undisputed possession the quarters they
appeared so desirous of quitting to those who were equally desirous of
entering upon them.
CHAPTER SIXTY THREE.
THE TAMANDUA: THE ANT-THRUSH.
Trusting to the explanation given by the tapuyo, they did not think of
inquiring further into the cause of the commotion among the ants. While
scanning the tree closely, several of the party perceived a movement
among its branches, and soon after the form of a singular creature that
was causing it. It was a quadruped, about the size of a raccoon or cat,
but of a shape peculiarly its own. Its body was long and cylindrical,
terminating posteriorly in a round, tapering tail, while its low, flat
head, prolonged into a smooth, slender muzzle, also tapered nearly to a
point. The eyes were so small as scarcely to be seen, and the mouth
more resembled a round hole than the closing of a pair of jaws. It was
covered with a dense silky fur, of a uniform length over the body, and
slightly crisped, so as to give it a woolly aspect. This fur was
straw-coloured, with a tinge of maroon and brown on the shoulders and
along the back, while the tail presented a ringed appearance from an
alternation of the two colours.
"_Tamandua_!" exclaimed Munday, at sight of the strange quadruped. "The
ant-eater. Not the great one, which is called _Tamandua assu_, and
don't climb up the trees. That you see is the little one; he lives all
his life among the branches,--sleeps there, either upon his breast, or
suspended by his tail,--travels from one tree to another in search of
honey, bees, wasps, grubs, but, above all, of such ants as make their
nests either in holes, or stick to the twigs. Ha!" he continued, "what
could I have been thinking of? The tocandeiras wishing to climb up to
the tree? Not a bit of it. Quite the contrary. It's the tamandua
that's keeping them in motion! See the cunning beast preparing to make
a descent among them!"
Nothing could be more certain than that this was the tamandua's
intention; for almost on the instant it was seen to move among the
branches, descending from one to the other, partly using its strong,
hooked claws, and partly its tapering and highly prehensile tail. Once
upon the dead-wood, it lay flat down upon its breast and belly; and
shooting out its long, thread-like tongue, coated with a sticky shining
substance resembling saliva, it commenced licking up the tocandeiras
that swarmed in thousands around it. It was to no purpose that the ants
made an attack upon it. Nature had provided it with an armour proof
both against their bite and sting. Rage around it as they might, the
tocandeiras could do nothing to hinder it from licking them up from the
log, and tucking them in hundreds into its capacious stomach. Finally
the tamandua had taken his fill,--breakfasted to his heart's content;
then, erecting himself on his hind-legs after the manner of a squirrel
or marmoset, he sprang back upon the branch from which he had descended.
Going a little higher up, he selected another and larger branch,
placing himself so that his belly rested along its upper surface, with
the legs hanging down on each side; and then, burying his proboscis in
the long fur of his breast, and taking two or three turns of his tail
around head, body, and legs, he fell fast asleep.
The old saw, that there is "many a slip between the cup and the lip," is
as true in the life of ant-eater as in that of a man; and when the
tamandua awoke,--which it did some twenty minutes afterwards,--and
looked down upon the dead-wood, it was astonished to discover that not a
tocandeira was in sight.
What had become of them? When left by the tamandua to their own devices
there were myriads still surviving. The few thousands which the
devourer licked up had made no perceptible diminution in their numbers;
and on the retiring of their enemy, they were swarming as thickly and
countlessly as ever. Now not one was visible upon the log, the hue of
which, from being of a flaming red, had returned to its original colour
of sombre grey. A few were discovered upon the standing tree, crawling
up its trunk and lower branches, with excited air and rapid movements,
as if escaping from terrible disaster. These refugees did not amount to
many hundreds; thinly scattered over the bark, they could have been
counted. They were too few to tempt the hunger of the tamandua. It
would not have been worth his while to project his slimy tongue for the
sake of a single tocandeira; so he retained it--not behind his teeth,
for he had none--but within the cylinder-shaped cavity of his mouth.
What had become of the tocandeiras? It is possible that the tamandua
mentally put this question to himself; for there is no animal, however
humble its organisation, that has not been gifted by beneficent Nature
with a mind and powers of reasoning,--ay, with moral perceptions of at
least the primary principles of right and wrong, as even the little
ant-eater gives evidence.
Perhaps you have yourself witnessed the proof. You have seen one ant
rob another of its crumb of bread, that by a laborious effort has been
carried far. You have seen the companions of both gather around the
spot, deprive the despoiler of its ill-gotten prize, restore the crumb
to its lawful possessor, and punish the would-be pilferer. If you have
not seen this, others have,--myself among the number. Surely, it is
reason; surely, it is moral perception. If not, what is it? The
closet-naturalist calls it _instinct_,--a ready word to cloak that
social cowardice which shrinks from acknowledging that besides man there
are other beings upon the earth with talents worth saving.
Soon after the ant-eater had gone to sleep, a little bird about the size
of a starling was seen flitting about. It was of the ordinary shape of
the shrikes, or fly-catchers, and, like them, of sombre plumage,--a dull
grey blended with bluish slate. As already said, it was flitting about
among the tree-tops, now and then rising above them, and hovering for a
while in the air; then lighting again upon a branch, and from this
hopping to another, and another, all the time giving utterance to
twittering but scarcely musical notes.
"An ant-thrush," Munday said. "It's hunting about for the very
creatures that are swarming on that log. If it should spy them we'll
have no more trouble with the tocandeiras. That friend will clear them
out of our way. If it but gets its eye on that red crowd, it'll treat
them very differently from what the beast has done. In twenty minutes
there won't be a tocandeira to sting us. May the Great Spirit prove
propitious, and turn its eyes upon the dead-wood!"
For a time the bird kept up its flickering flight and twittering cry,
while our adventurers watched it manoeuvres, keeping quiet, as a
precaution against scaring it away. All at once the ant-thrush changed
its tactics, and its louder note proclaimed a surprise. It had come
close to the tree that contained the tamandua, and saw the quadruped
taking its _siesta_ upon the branch. From the presence of the ant-eater
it argued the proximity of their common prey.
The swarm of fire-ants, reddening the log, formed too conspicuous an
object to escape being seen. The ant-thrush soon saw them, and
announced the discovery with a screech, which was a signal to scores of
hungry companions. It was answered by what seemed a hundred echoes, and
soon the air resounded with whistling wings, as the feathered ant-eaters
came crowding to the feast.
Boy reader, you have bred pigeons, and fed them too. You have flung
before them whole baskets of barley, and pecks of oats, until the
pavement was thickly strewed. You have observed how quickly they could
clear the ground of the grain. With the like rapidity was the log
cleared of the tocandeiras. In ten minutes not a single insect could be
seen upon it; and then the feathered ant-eaters, without giving the
tamandua a hint that his premises had been despoiled, flew off into the
forest in search of a fresh swarm.
CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR.
ANT-EATERS--BIPED AND QUADRUPED.
The spectacle of the bird ant-eaters engaged in their work of
destruction is one that may be seen almost every day in the Amazonian
region. The presence of an army of ants passing from place to place
through the forest--themselves often bent upon a marauding and murderous
expedition--may often be discovered long belong the insects themselves
are in sight, by the twittering cries and excited actions of the
ant-thrushes, that in large flocks are seen hovering above them. The
traveller takes warning by the spectacle. Experience has long ago
taught him that to stray into the midst of a party of foraging ants is
no slight matter. It would be like dancing an Irish jig over a nest of
hornets. He is sure of being attacked, bitten, and stung by the
venomous insects; and on hearing the call of the ant-thrush, he beats an
instant retreat. The quadruped licking up his insect prey is a sight of
less frequent occurrence.
Of these four-footed ant-eaters there are many distinct kinds, differing
very considerably in their habits of life. Four species are known to
naturalists; but it is probable that there are many more yet to be
discovered and described. The Indians who are best acquainted with the
remote haunts of the great mountain wilderness of interior South America
assert that there are others; and their testimony is generally derived
from acute observation. Of the four known species there is the great
ant-eater (_Myrmecophaga jubata_) called Tamanoir, large as a mastiff
dog, and a match for most dogs in strength, often even killing one by
squeezing the breath out of his body between its thick, muscular
fore-limbs. This is the _Tamandua bandeira_, or "banner tamandua" of
the natives, so called from the peculiar marking of its skin,--each side
of the body being marked by a broad blackish band running obliquely from
the shoulders, and suggesting the resemblance of an heraldic banner. It
lives in the drier forests, making its haunt wherever the white ants
(_termites_), those that construct the great hills, abound. Of the
habits of this species a more complete account has been given elsewhere.
[See "The Forest Exiles," by the author of this story.]
The second species of tamandua--that is, in size--is quite a different
creature. It scarcely ever descends to the earth, but passes from
branch to branch and tree to tree by means of its strong, curving claws,
and more especially by the aid of a very long and highly prehensile
tail. Its food consists exclusively of ants, that construct huge earthy
nests high up among the branches or against the trunks of the trees,
where they present the appearance of grotesque excrescences. This
tamandua often moves about during the day, in its slow progress much
resembling the sloths, though its food is so very different from the
animal of the Cecropia-tree (_bicho de embauba_). This species dwells
chiefly in the thick forests, and goes into the Gapo at all seasons of
the year, and it was one of this sort which the party had seen.
But there are still two other kinds that make their home upon the
trees,--both exceedingly curious little animals, and much more rarely
seen than the large tamanduas. They are distinguished by the name of
_tamandua-i_, which in the Indian language means "little tamandua." One
of them, the rarest of the family, is about the size of a half-grown
kitten. Instead of hair, it wears a fine wool of a greyish-yellow
colour, soft and silky to the touch. The other is of the same size, but
dingy brown in colour, and with hair of a coarser kind. These little
ant-eaters both sleep through the day, curled up in the cavity of a
tree, or in some fork of the branches, and only display their activity
by night.
Thus it is that the ants have no chance of escaping from their numerous
enemies. On the earth they are attacked and destroyed by the great
ant-eater, in the trees by his brother with the four curving claws. By
day one species preys upon them,--by night, another. Go where they
will, there is a foe to fall upon them. Even when they seek security
under the earth, there too are they pursued by enemies of their own
tribe, the savage _ecitons_, which enter their subterranean dwellings,
and kill them upon their own hearths, to be dragged forth piecemeal and
devoured in the light of the sun!
CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE.
THE CHASE OF THE TAMANDUA.
If the tamandua had been surprised by the disappearance of the
tocandeiras, it was not less so to see approaching a creature more than
ten times its own size. This creature was of a dark bronze colour,
having a long, upright body, a pair of legs still longer, arms almost as
long as the legs, and a roundish head with long black hair growing out
of its crown, and hanging down over its shoulders. If the ant-eater had
never before seen a human being,--which was probable enough,--it saw one
now; for this creature was no other than old Munday, who had taken a
fancy to capture that tamandua. Perhaps the little quadruped may have
mistaken him for an ape, but it must have also thought him the grandest
it had ever set eyes upon. Swinging itself from branch to branch, using
both claws and tail to effect its flight, it forsook the tree where it
had slept, and took to another farther into the forest. But Munday had
anticipated this movement, and passed among the branches and over the
matted llianas with the agility of an ape,--now climbing up from limb to
limb, now letting himself down by some hanging sipo.
He was soon joined in the pursuit by Richard Trevannion, who was an
expert climber, and, if unable to overtake the ant-eater in a direct
chase, could be of service in helping to drive it back to the tree it
had just left, and which stood at the end of a projecting tongue of the
forest. It is possible that Munday might have been overmatched, with
all his alertness; for the tamandua had reached the narrowest part of
the peninsula before he could get there. Once across the _isthmus_,
which consisted of a single tree, it would have had the wide forest
before it, and would soon have hidden itself amid the matted tangle of
leaves and twigs. Richard, however, was too cunning to let the
ant-eater escape him. Dropping into the water, he swam towards the
isthmus with all his strength, and reached the tree before the tamandua.