Description of San Antonio valley.
Great variety of animal life.
Pitcher-flowered Marcgravias.
Flowers fertilised by humming-birds.
By insects.
Provision in some flowers to prevent insects, not adapted for
carrying the pollen, from obtaining access to the nectaries.
Stories about wasps.
Humming-birds bathing.
Singular myriapods.
Ascent of Pena Blanca.
Tapirs and jaguars.
Summit of Pena Blanca.
ON the northern side of the Santo Domingo valley, opposite to my
house, a branch valley came down from the north, which we called
the San Antonio Valley. It intersected all the lodes we were
working, and I constructed a tramway up it as far as the most
northern mine, called San Benito, by which we brought down the ore
to the stamps and the firewood for the steam-engine, and in a short
time we had cleared all the timber from the lower part of the
valley; and a dense scrub or second growth sprang up, through which
numerous paths were made by the woodcutters. I was almost daily up
this valley, visiting the mines, or in the evening after the
workmen had left, and on Saturday afternoons, when they
discontinued work at two o'clock. On Sundays, too, it was our
favourite walk, for the tramway was dry to walk on; there were
tunnels, mines, and sheds at various parts to get into if one of
the sudden heavy showers of rain came on; and there were always
flowers or insects or birds to claim one's attention. I planned the
whole of the tramway; the upper half I surveyed and levelled
myself; and my almost daily walks up it familiarised me with every
bush and fallen log by its side, and with every turn of the clear
cool brook that came prattling down over the stones, soon at the
machinery to lose its early purity, and be soiled in the ceaseless
search for gold.
(PLATE 11. PITCHER-FLOWER (Marcgravia nepenthoides).)
(PLATE 12. FLOWER OF THE "PALOSABRE.")
The sides of the valley rose steeply, and a fair view was obtained
from the tramway in the centre over the shrubs and small trees on
each side, so that the walk was not so hemmed in with foliage, as
is usual in the forest roads. Insects were plentiful by this path.
In some parts brown tiger beetles ran or flew with great swiftness;
in others, leaf-cutting ants in endless trains carried aloft their
burdens of foliage, looking as they marched along with the segments
of leaves, held up vertically, like green butterflies, or a mimic
representation of a moving Birnam wood. Sometimes the chirping of
the ant-thrushes drew attention to where a great body of army-ants
were foraging amongst the fallen branches, sending the spiders,
cockroaches, and grasshoppers fleeing for their lives, only to fall
victims to the surrounding birds. On the fallen branches and logs I
obtained many longicorn beetles; the woodcutters brought me many
more, and from this valley were obtained some of the rarest and
finest species in my collection. On the myrtle-like flowers of some
of the shrubs, large green cockchafers were to be found during the
dry season, and a bright green rosechafer was also common. I was
surprised to find on two occasions a green and brown bug (Pentatoma
punicea) sucking the juices from dead specimens of this species.
The bug has weak limbs, and the beetle is more than twice its size
and weight, and is very active, quickly taking wing; so that the
only way in which it could be overcome that I can think of is by
the bug creeping up when it is sleeping, quietly introducing the
point of its sharp proboscis between the rings of its body, and
injecting some stupefying poison. In both instances that I
witnessed, the bug was on a leaf up a shrub, with the bulky beetle
hanging over suspended on its proboscis. Other species of bugs
certainly inject poisonous fluids. One black and red species in the
forest, if taken in the hand, would thrust its sharp proboscis into
the skin, and produce a pain worse than the sting of a wasp.
Amongst the bushes were always to be found the beautiful scarlet
and black tanager (Rhamphocoelus passerinii, Bp.), and more rarely
another species (R. sanguinolentus, Less.). Along with these, a
brownish-coloured bird, reddish on the breast and top of the head
(Phoenicothraupis fusicauda, Cab.), flew sociably; whilst generally
somewhere in the vicinity, as evening drew on, a brown hawk might
be seen up some of the low trees, watching the thoughtless chirping
birds, and ready to pounce down when opportunity offered. Higher up
the valley more trees were left standing, and amongst these small
flocks of other birds might often be found, one green with red head
(Calliste laviniae, Cass.); another, shining green, with black head
(Chlorophones guatemalensis); and a third, beautiful black, blue,
and yellow, with yellow head (Calliste larvata, Du Bus.). These and
many others were certain to be found where the climbing Marcgravia
nepenthoides expanded its curious flowers. The flowers of this
lofty climber are disposed in a circle, hanging downwards, like an
inverted candelabrum. From the centre of the circle of flowers is
suspended a number of pitcher-like vessels, which, when the flowers
expand, in February and March, are filled with a sweetish liquid.
This liquid attracts insects, and the insects numerous
insectivorous birds, including the species I have mentioned and
many kinds of humming-birds. The flowers are so disposed, with the
stamens hanging downwards, that the birds, to get at the pitchers,
must brush against them, and thus convey the pollen from one plant
to another. A second species of Marcgravia that I found in the
woods around Santo Domingo has the pitchers placed close to the
pedicels of the flowers, so that the birds must approach them from
above; and in this species the flowers are turned upwards, and the
pollen is brushed off by the breasts of the birds. In temperate
latitudes we find many flowers fertilised by insects, attracted by
honey-bearing nectaries; and in tropical America not only bees,
moths, and other large insects carry the pollen from one flower to
another, but many flowers, like the Marcgravia, are specially
adapted to secure the aid of small birds, particularly
humming-birds, for this purpose. Amongst these, the "palosabre," a
species of Erythrina, a small tree, bearing red flowers, that grew
in this valley, near the brook, often drew my attention. The tree
blooms in February, and is at the time leafless, so that the large
red flowers are seen from a great distance. Each flower consists of
a single long, rather fleshy petal, doubled over, flattened, and
closed, excepting a small opening on one edge, where the stamens
protrude. Only minute insects can find access to the flower, which
secretes at the base a honey-like fluid. Two long-billed
humming-birds frequent it; one (Heliomaster pallidiceps, Gould),
which I have already mentioned, is rather rare; the other
(Phaethornis longirostris, De Latt.) might be seen at any time when
the tree was in bloom, by watching near it for a few minutes. It is
mottled brown above, pale below, and the two middle tail feathers
are much longer than the others. The bill is very long and curved,
enabling the bird easily to probe the long flower, and with its
extensile cleft tongue pick up the minute insects from the bottom
of the tube, where they are caught as if in a trap, their only way
of exit being closed by the bill of the bird. Whilst the bird is
probing the flower, the pollen of the stamens is rubbed in to the
lower part of its head, and thus carried from one flower to
fecundate another. The bottom of the flower is covered externally
with a thick, fleshy calyx--an effectual guard against the attempts
of bees or wasps to break through to get at the honey.
Humming-birds feed on minute insects, and the honey would only be
wasted if larger ones could gain access to it, but in the flower of
the palosabre this contingency is simply and completely guarded
against.
Many flowers have contrivances for preventing useless insects from
obtaining access to the nectaries. Amongst our English flowers
there are scores of interesting examples, and I shall describe the
fertilisation of one, the common foxglove, on account of the
exceeding simplicity with which this object is effected, and to
draw the attention of all lovers of nature to this branch of a
subject on which the labours of Darwin and other naturalists have
of late years thrown a flood of light. The pollen of the foxglove
(Digitalis purpurea) is carried from one flower to another by the
humble-bee, who, far more than the hive bee, that "improves each
shining hour," deserves to be considered the type of steady,
persevering industry. It improves not only the hours of sunshine,
but those of cloud, and even rain; and, long before the honey-bee
has ventured from its door, is at work bustling from flower to
flower, its steady hum changing to an importunate squeak as it
rifles the blossoms of their sweets. The racemes of purple bells
held up by the foxglove are methodically visited by it, commencing
at the bottom flower, and ascending step by step to the highest.
The four stamens and the pistil of the foxglove are laid closely
against the upper side of the flower. First a stamen on one side
opens its anthers and exposes its pollen. The humble-bee, as it
bustles in and out, brushes this off. Then another stamen exposes
its pollen on the other side, then another and another; but not
till all the pollen has been brushed off does the cleft end of the
pistil open, and expose its viscid stigma. The humble-bee brushes
off the pollen onto its hairy coat from the upper flowers of one
raceme and carries it direct to the lowest flowers of another,
where the viscid stigmas are open and ready to receive it. If the
humble-bee went first to the upper flowers of the spike and
proceeded downwards, the whole economy of this plant to procure
cross fertilisation would be upset.* (* Darwin mentions having seen
humble-bees visiting the flowering spikes of the Spiranthes
autumnalis (ladies' tresses), and notices that they always
commenced with the bottom flowers, and crawling spirally up, sucked
one flower after the other, and shows how this proceeding ensures
the cross fertilisation of different plants.--"Fertilisation of
Orchids" page 127.) The open flower of the foxglove hangs
downwards. The lower part, or dilated opening of the tube, is
turned outwards, and has scattered stiff hairs distributed over its
inner surface; above these the inside of the flower hangs almost
perpendicularly, and is smooth and pearly. The large humble-bee
bustles in with the greatest ease, and uses these hairs as
footholds whilst he is sucking the honey; but the smaller
honey-bees are impeded by them, and when, having at last struggled
through them, they reach the pearly, slippery precipice above, they
are completely baffled. I passed the autumn of 1857 in North Wales,
where the foxglove was very abundant, and watched the flowers
throughout the season, but only once saw a small bee reach the
nectary, though many were seen trying in vain to do so.
Great attention has of late years been paid by naturalists to the
wonderful contrivances amongst flowers to secure cross
fertilisation; but the structure of many cannot, I believe, be
understood, unless we take into consideration not only the
beautiful adaptations for securing the services of the proper
insect or bird, but also the contrivances for preventing insects
that would not be useful, from obtaining access to the nectar. Thus
the immense length of the nectary of the Angraecum sesquipedale of
Madagascar might, perhaps, have been completely explained by Mr.
Wallace, if this important purpose had been taken into account.* (*
"Natural Selection" by A.R. Wallace page 272.)
The tramway in some parts was on raised ground, in others excavated
in the bank side. In the cuttings the nearly perpendicular clay
slopes were frequented by many kinds of wasps that excavated round
holes of the diameter of their own bodies, and stored them with
sting-paralysed spiders, grasshoppers, or horse-flies. Amongst
these they lay their eggs, and the white grubs that issue therefrom
feed on the poor prisoners. I one day saw a small black and yellow
banded wasp (Pompilus polistoides) hunting for spiders; it
approached a web where a spider was stationed in the centre, made a
dart towards it--apparently a feint to frighten the spider clear of
its web; at any rate it had that effect, for it fell to the ground,
and was immediately seized by the wasp, who stung it, then ran
quickly backwards, dragging the spider after it, up a branch
reaching to the ground, until it got high enough, when it flew
heavily off with it. It was so small, and the spider so heavy, that
it probably could not have raised it from the ground by flight. All
over the world there are wasps that store their nests with the
bodies of spiders for their young to feed on. In Australia, I often
witnessed a wasp combating with a large flat spider that is found
on the bark of trees. It would fall to the ground, and lie on its
back, so as to be able to grapple with its opponent; but the wasp
was always the victor in the encounters I saw, although it was not
always allowed to carry its prey off in peace. One day, sitting on
the sand-banks on the coast of Hobson's Bay, I saw one dragging
along a large spider. Three or four inches above it hovered two
minute flies, keeping a little behind, and advancing with it. The
wasp seemed much disturbed by the presence of the tiny flies, and
twice left its prey to fly up towards them, but they darted away
immediately. As soon as the wasp returned to the spider, there they
were hovering over and following it again. At last, unable to drive
away its small tormenters, the wasp reached its burrow and took
down the spider, and the two flies stationed themselves one on each
side the entrance, and would, doubtless, when the wasp went away to
seek another victim, descend and lay their own eggs in the nest.
The variety of wasps, as of all other insects, was very great
around Santo Domingo. Many made papery nests, hanging from the
undersides of large leaves. Others hung their open cells underneath
verandahs and eaves of houses. One large black one was particularly
abundant about houses, and many people got stung by them. They also
build their pendent nests in the orange and lime trees, and it is
not always safe to gather the fruit. Fortunately they are heavy
flyers, and can often be struck down or evaded in their attacks.
They do good where there are gardens, as they feed their young on
caterpillars, and are continually hunting for them. Another
species, banded brown and yellow (Polistes carnifex), has similar
habits, but is not so common. Bates, in his account of the habits
of the sand-wasps at Santarem, on the Amazon, gives an interesting
account of the way in which they took a few turns in the air around
the hole they had made in the sand, before leaving to seek for
flies in the forest, apparently to mark well the position of the
burrow, so that on their return they might find it without
difficulty. He remarks that this precaution would be said to be
instinctive, but that the instinct is no mysterious and
unintelligible agent, but a mental process in each individual
differing from the same in man only by its unerring certainty.* (*
"Naturalist on the River Amazons" page 222.) I had an opportunity
of confirming his account of the proceedings of wasps when quitting
a locality to which they wished to return, in all but their
unerring certainty. I could not help noting how similar they were
to the way in which a man would act who wished to return to some
spot not easily found out, and with which he was not previously
acquainted. A specimen of the Polistes carnifex was hunting about
for caterpillars in my garden. I found one about an inch long, and
held it out towards the wasp on the point of a stick. The wasp
seized the caterpillar immediately, and commenced biting it from
head to tail, soon reducing the soft body to a mass of pulp. Then
rolling up about one half of the pulp into a ball, it carried it
off. Being at the time amidst a thick mass of a fine-leaved
climbing plant, it proceeded, before flying away, to take note of
the place where the other half was left. To do this, it hovered in
front for a few seconds, then took small circles in front, then
larger ones round the whole plant. I thought it had gone, but it
returned again, and had another look at the opening in the dense
foliage down which the other half of the caterpillar lay. It then
flew away, but must have left its burden for distribution with its
comrades at the nest, for it returned in less than two minutes, and
making one circle around the bush, descended to the opening,
alighted on a leaf, and ran inside. The green remnant of the
caterpillar was lying on another leaf inside, but not connected
with the one on which the wasp alighted, so that in running in it
missed the object and soon got hopelessly lost in the thick
foliage. Coming out, it took another circle, and pounced down on
the same spot again, as soon as it came opposite to it. Three small
seed-pods, which here grew close together, formed the marks that I
had myself taken to note the place, and these the wasp seemed also
to have taken as its guide, for it flew directly down to them, and
ran inside; but the small leaf on which the fragment of caterpillar
lay, not being directly connected with any on the outside, it again
missed it, and again got far away from the object of its search. It
then flew out again, and the same process was repeated again and
again. Always, when in circling round it came in sight of the
seed-pods, down it pounced, alighted near them, and recommenced its
quest on foot. I was surprised at its perseverance, and thought it
would have given up the search; not so, however, for it returned at
least half-a-dozen times, and seemed to get angry, hurrying about
with buzzing wings. At last it stumbled across its prey, seized it
eagerly, and as there was nothing more to come back for, flew
straight off to its nest, without taking any further note of the
locality. Such an action is not the result of blind instinct, but
of a thinking mind; and it is wonderful to see an insect so
differently constructed using a mental process similar to that of
man. It is suggestive of the probability of many of the actions of
insects that we ascribe to instinct being the result of the
possession of reasoning powers.
Where the tramway terminated at San Benito mine, the valley had
greatly contracted in width, and the stream, excepting in time of
flood, had dwindled to a little rill. A small rough path, made by
the miners to bring in their timber, continued up the brook,
crossing and recrossing it. The sides of the valley were very
steep, and covered with trees and undergrowth. The foliage arched
over the water, forming beautiful little dells, with small, clear
pools of water. One of these was a favourite resort of
humming-birds, who came there to bathe, for these gem-like birds
are very frequent in their ablutions, and I spent many a half-hour
in the evenings leaning against a trunk of a tree that had fallen
across the stream four or five yards below the pool, and watching
them. At all times of the day they occasionally came down, but
during the short twilight there was a crowd of bathers, and often
there were two or three at one time hovering over the pool, which
was only three feet across, and dipping into it. Some would delay
their evening toilet until the shades of night were thickening, and
it became almost too dark to distinguish them from my stand. Three
species regularly frequented the pool, and three others
occasionally visited it. The commonest was the Thalurania venusta
(Gould), the male of which is a most beautiful bird--the front of
the head and shoulders glistening purple, the throat brilliant
light green, shining in particular lights like polished metal, the
breast blue, and the back dark green. It was a beautiful sight to
see this bird hovering over the pool, turning from side to side by
quick jerks of its tail, now showing its throat a gleaming emerald,
now its shoulders a glistening amethyst, then darting beneath the
water, and rising instantly, throw off a shower of spray from its
quivering wings, and fly up to an overhanging bough and commence to
preen its feathers. All humming-birds bathe on the wing, and
generally take three or four dips, hovering, between times, about
three inches above the surface.
Sometimes when the last-mentioned species was suspended over the
water, its rapidly vibrating wings showing like a mere film, a
speck shot down the valley, swift as an arrow, as white as a
snowflake, and stopping suddenly over the pool, startled the
emerald-throat, and frightened it up amongst the overhanging
branches. The intruder was the white-cap (Microchera parvirostris,
Lawr.), the smallest of thirteen different kinds of humming-birds
that I noticed around Santo Domingo; being only a little more than
two and a half inches in length, including the bill; but it was
very pugnacious, and I have often seen it drive some of the larger
birds away from a flowering tree. Its body is purplish-red, with
green reflections, the front of its head flat and pearly white,
and, when flying towards one, its white head is the only part seen.
Sometimes the green-throat would hold its ground, and then it was
comical to see them hovering over the water, jerking round from
side to side, eyeing each other suspiciously, the one wishing to
dip, but apparently afraid to do so, for fear the other would take
a mean advantage, and do it some mischief whilst under water;
though what harm was possible I could not see, as there were no
clothes to steal. I have seen human bathers acting just like the
birds, though from a different cause, bobbing down towards the
water, but afraid to dip their heads, and the idea of comicality
arose, as it does in most of the ludicrous actions of animals, from
their resemblance to those of mankind. The dispute would generally
end by the green-throat giving way, and leaving the pugnacious
little white-cap in possession of the pool.
Besides the humming-birds I have mentioned, there were four or five
other small ones that we used to call squeakers, as it is their
habit for a great part of the day to sit motionless on branches and
every now and then to chirp out one or two shrill notes. At first I
thought these sounds proceeded from insects, as they resemble those
of crickets; but they are not so continuous. After a while I got to
know them, and could distinguish the notes of the different
species. It was not until then that I found out how full the woods
are of humming-birds, for they are most difficult to see when
perched amongst the branches, and when flying they frequent the
tops of trees in flower, where they are indistinguishable. I have
sometimes heard the different chirps of more than a dozen
individuals, although unable to get a glimpse of one of them, as
they are mere brown specks on the branches, their metallic colours
not showing from below, and the sound of their chirpings--or rather
squeakings--being most deceptive as to their direction and distance
from the hearer. My conclusion, after I got to know their voices in
the woods, was that the humming-birds around Santo Domingo equalled
in number all the rest of the birds together, if they did not
greatly exceed them. Yet one may sometimes ride for hours without
seeing one. They build their nests on low shrubs--often on branches
overhanging paths, or on the underside of the large leaves of the
shrubby palm-trees. They are all bold birds, suffering you to
approach nearer than any other kinds, and often flying up and
hovering within two or three yards from you. This fearlessness is
probably owing to the great security from foes that their swiftness
of flight ensures to them. I have noticed amongst butterflies that
the swiftest and strongest flyers, such as the Hesperidae, also
allow you to approach near to them, feeling confident that they can
dart away from any threatened danger--a misplaced confidence,
however, so far as the net of the collector is concerned.
At the head of the tramway, near the entrance to the San Benito
mine, we planted about three acres of the banks of the valley with
grass. In clearing away the fallen logs and brushwoods, many
beetles, scorpions, and centipedes were brought to light. Amongst
the last was a curious species belonging to the sucking division of
the Myriapods (Sugantia, of Brandt), which had a singular method of
securing its prey. It is about three inches long, and sluggish in
its movements; but from its tubular mouth it is able to discharge a
viscid fluid to the distance of about three inches, which stiffens
on exposure to the air to the consistency of a spider's web, but
stronger. With this it can envelop and capture its prey, just as a
fowler throws his net over a bird. The order of Myriapoda is placed
by systematists at the bottom of the class of insects; the sucking
Myriapods are amongst the lowest forms of the order, and it is
singular to find one of these lowly organised species furnished
with an apparatus of such utility, and the numberless higher forms
without any trace of it. Some of the other centipedes have two
phosphorescent spots in the head, which shine brightly at night,
casting a greenish light for a little distance in front of them. I
do not know the use of these lights, but think that they may serve
to dazzle or allure the insects on which they prey. We planted two
kinds of grasses, both of which have been introduced into Nicaragua
within the last twenty years. They are called Para and Guinea
grasses, I believe, after the places from which they were first
brought. The former is a strong succulent grass, rooting at the
joints; the latter grows in tufts, rising to a height of four to
five feet. Both are greatly liked by cattle and mules; large
bundles were cut every day for the latter whilst they were at work
on the tramway, and they kept in good condition on it without other
food. The natural, indigenous grass that springs up in clearings in
the neighbouring forest is a creeping species, and is rather
abundant about Santo Domingo. It has a bitter taste, and cattle do
not thrive on it, but rapidly fall away in condition if confined to
it. They do better when allowed to roam about the outskirts of the
forest amongst the brushwood, as they browse on the leaves of many
of the bushes. This grass is not found far outside the forest, but
is replaced on the savannahs by a great variety of tufted grasses,
which seem gradually to overcome the creeper in the clearings on
the edge of the forest; but at Santo Domingo the latter was
predominant, and although I sowed the seeds of other grasses
amongst it, they did not succeed, on account of the cattle picking
them out and eating them in preference to the other.
There were many other paths leading in different directions into
the forest, and I shall describe one of them, as it differed from
those already mentioned, leading to the top of a bare rock, rising
fully 1000 feet above Santo Domingo.
This rock, on the southern and most perpendicular side, weathers to
a whitish colour, and is called Pena Blanca, meaning the white
peak. It is visible from some points on the savannahs. During the
summer months it is, on the northern side, covered with the flowers
of a caulescent orchid (Ornithorhynchos) that has not been found
anywhere else in the neighbourhood; and the natives, who are very
fond of flowers, inheriting the taste from their Indian ancestors,
at this time, often on Sundays ascend the peak and bring down large
quantities of the blossoms. Its colour, when it first opens, is
scarlet and yellow. With it grows a crimson Mackleania. Once when I
made an ascent, in March, these flowers were in perfection, and in
great abundance, and the northern face of the rock was completely
covered with them. When I emerged from the gloomy forest, the sun
was shining brightly on it, and the combination of scarlet,
crimson, and yellow made a perfect blaze of colour, approaching
more nearly to the appearance of flames of fire than anything I
have elsewhere seen in the floral world.
(PLATE 13. ADVENTURE WITH A JAGUAR.)
The last ascent I made to the summit of Pena Blanca was in the
middle of June 1872, after we had had about two weeks of
continuously wet weather. On the 17th, the rain clouds cleared
away, the sun shone out, and only a few fleecy cumuli sailed across
the blue sky, driven by the north-east trade wind. I had on
previous visits to the peak noticed the elytra of many beetles
lying on the bare top. They were the remnants of insects caught by
frogs; great bulky fellows that excited one's curiosity to know how
ever they got there. Amongst the elytra were those of beetles that
I had never taken, and as they were night-roaming species, I
determined to go up some evening and wait until dark, with a
lanthorn, to see if I could take any of them. We had one heavy
shower of rain in the afternoon, so that the forest was very wet,
and the hills slippery and difficult for the mule. The path ascends
the valley of Santo Domingo, then crosses a range behind a mine
called the "Consuelo," enters the forest, descending at first a
steep slope to a clear brook; after crossing this, the ascent of
the hill of Pena Blanca begins, and is continuous for about a mile
to the top of the rock. The ground was damp, and the forest gloomy,
but here and there glimpses of sunshine glanced through the trees,
and enlivened the scene a little. I startled a mountain hen
(Tinamus sp.) which whirred off amongst the bushes. The dry slopes
of hills are their favourite feeding-places, and around Pena Blanca
they are rather plentiful; and so, also, in their season, are the
curassows and penelopes. In the lower ground, the footmarks of the
tapir are very frequent, especially along the small paths, where I
have sometimes traced them for more than a mile. They are harmless
beasts. One of our men came across one near Pena Blanca, and
attacked and killed it with his knife. He brought in the head to
me. It was as large as that of a bullock. I often tried to track
them, but never succeeded in seeing one. One day in my eagerness to
get near what I believed to be one, I rushed into rather unpleasant
proximity with a jaguar, the "tigre" of the natives. I had just
received a fresh supply of cartridge cases for my breech-loader,
and wishing to get some specimens of the small birds that attend
the armies of the foraging ants, I made up three or four small
charges of Number 8 shot, putting in only a quarter of an ounce of
shot into each charge, so as not to destroy their plumage. I went
back into the forest along a path where I had often seen the great
footmarks of the tapir. After riding about a couple of miles, I
heard the notes of some birds, and, dismounting, tied up my mule,
and pushed through the bushes. The birds were shy, and in following
them I had got about fifty yards from the path, to a part where the
big trees were more clear of brushwood, when I heard a loud hough
in a thicket towards the left. It was something between a cough and
a growl, but very loud, and could only have been produced by a very
large animal. Never having seen or heard a jaguar before in the
woods, and having often seen the footprints of the tapir, I thought
it was the latter, and thinking I would have to get very close up
to it to do it any damage with my little charge of small shot, I
ran along towards the sound, which was continued at intervals of a
few seconds. Seeing a large animal moving amongst the thick bushes,
only a few yards from me, I stopped, when, to my amazement, out
stalked a great jaguar (like the housekeeper's rat, the largest I
had ever seen), in whose jaws I should have been nearly as helpless
as a mouse in those of a cat. He was lashing his tail, at every
roar showing his great teeth, and was evidently in a bad humour.
Notwithstanding I was so near to him, I scarcely think he saw me at
first, as he was crossing the open glade about twenty yards in
front of me. I had not even a knife with me to show fight with if
he attacked me, and my small charge of shot would not have
penetrated beyond his skin, unless I managed to hit him when he was
very near to me. To steady my aim, if he approached me, I knelt
down on one knee, supporting my left elbow on the other. He was
just opposite to me at the time, the movement caught his eye, he
turned half round, and put down his neck and head towards the
ground as if he was going to spring, and I believe he could have
cleared the ground between us at a single bound, but the next
moment he turned away from me, and was lost sight of amongst the
bushes. I half regretted I had not fired and taken my chance; and
when he disappeared, I followed a few yards, greatly chagrined that
in the only chance I had ever had of bagging a jaguar, I was not
prepared for the encounter, and had to let "I dare not," wait upon
"I would." I returned the next morning with a supply of ball
cartridges, but in the night it had rained heavily, so that I could
not even find the jaguar's tracks, and although afterwards I was
always prepared, I never met with another. From the accounts of the
natives, I believe that in Central America he never attacks man
unless first interfered with, but when wounded is very savage and
dangerous. Velasquez told me that his father had mortally wounded
one, which, however, sprang after him, and had got hold of him by
the leg, when it fortunately fell down dead.
The path up Pena Blanca hill gets steeper and steeper, until about
fifty yards from the rock it is too precipitous and rugged to ride
with safety, so that the rest of the ascent must be made on foot.
Tying my mule to a sapling, I scrambled up the path, and soon
emerging from the dark forest, stood under the grey face of the
rock towering up above me. It has two peaks, of which the highest
is accessible, footholds having been cut into the face of it, and
the most difficult part being surmounted by a rude ladder made by
cutting notches in a pole. Above it the rock is shelving, and the
top is easily reached. I found a strong north-east wind blowing,
which made it rather uncomfortable on the top, but the view was
very fine and varied. To the south-east and east the eye roams over
range beyond range all covered with dark forest, that partly hides
the inequalities of the ground, the trees in the hollows growing
higher than those on the hills. On this side the rock is a sheer
precipice, going down perpendicularly for more than three hundred
feet; the face of the cliff all weathered white. The tops of the
trees are far below, and as one looking down upon them hears the
various cries and whistles of the birds come up, and marks the
vultures wheeling round in aerial circles over the trees far below
one's feet, then it is that you realise that at last the forest,
with its world of foliage, has been surmounted. Looking down on the
trees, every shade of green meets the eye, here light as grass,
there dark as holly, whilst the fleecy clouds above cast lines of
dark shadows over hill and dale.
Directly south-east is a high rock, about three miles distant, and
beyond it the Carca and the Artigua rivers must meet, judging from
the fall of the country. The course of the Carca is marked by some
patches of light green, that look like grass, and are probably
clearings made by the Indians.
To the south the eye first passes over about six miles of forest,
then savannahs and grassy ranges stretching to the lake, which is
only dimly seen, with the peaks of Madera and Ometepec more
distinct, the latter bearing south-west by west. Alone on the
summit of a high peak, with surging green billows of foliage all
around, dim misty mountains in the distance, and above the blue
heavens, checkered with fleecy clouds, that have travelled up
hundreds of miles from the north-east, thoughts arise that can be
only felt in their full intensity amid solitude and nature's
grandest phases. Then man's intellect strives to grapple with the
great mysteries of his existence, and like a fluttering bird that
beats itself against the bars of its cage, falls back baffled and
bruised.
(PLATE 14. PENA BLANCA.)
Another shower of rain came on, quickly followed by sunshine again.
Great banks of vapour began to rise from the forest, and fill the
valleys, and now looking down over the precipice, instead of
foliage there was a glistening white cloud spread out below, up
through which came the cries of birds. The hills stood up through
the cloud of mist like islands. To the south-west, over the
savannahs, the air was clear, and the peak of Ometepec was a fine
object in the distance. A white cloud enveloping its top looked
like a snow-cap, and this, as the night came on, descended lower
and lower, mantling closely around it, and conforming to its
outline. That the savannahs should not give off the same vapour as
the forest has been ascribed, and, I believe, with reason, to the
fact that their evaporating surfaces are much smaller than those of
the latter, with their numberless leaves heated by the previous
sunshine.
As night came on, a wetting mist drove over the top of the peak,
and the wind increased in strength, making it very cold and bleak,
for there was no shelter of any kind on the summit. Such a night
was not a favourable one for insects, but I got a few beetles that
were new to me on the very top of the rock, where only rushes are
growing. They appeared to be travelling with the north-east trade
wind, and were sifted out by the rushes as they passed over. On a
finer night I have no doubt many species might be obtained. I
suppose that the wind was moving at the rate of not less than
thirty miles an hour, so that the beetles, when they got up to it
from the forest below, where it was comparatively calm, might
easily be carried hundreds of miles without much labour to
themselves. I added two fine new Carabidae to my collection; and
about eleven o'clock started back again, having many a fall on the
slippery steep before I reached the place where I had left my mule.
It was a very dark night, and the oil of my small bull's-eye
lanthorn was exhausted, but the mule knew every step of the way,
and, though slipping often, never fell, and carried me safely home.