Chapter Twenty.
Obstructed by a “Biscachera.”
In their fresh “spurt,” the trackers had not proceeded very far when compelled to slacken speed, and finally come to a dead stop. This from something seen before them upon the plain which threatens to bar their further progress—at least in the course they are pursuing.
The thing thus obstructing causes them neither surprise nor alarm, only annoyance; for it is one with which they all are familiar—a biscachera, or warren of biscachas.
It is scarce possible to travel twenty miles across the plains bordering the La Plata or Parana, without coming upon the burrows of this singular rodent; a prominent and ever-recurring feature in the scenery. There the biscacha, or viscacha—as it is indifferently spelt—plays pretty much the same part as the rabbit in our northern lands. It is, however, a much larger animal, and of a quite different species or genus—the lagostoinus trichodactylus. In shape of head, body, and other respects, it more resembles a gigantic rat; and, like the latter, it has a long tapering tail, which strengthens the resemblance. But, unlike either rabbit or rat, its hind feet are furnished with but three toes; hence its specific name, trichodactylus. The same scarcity of toes is a characteristic of the agoutis, capivaras, and so called “Guinea pigs,” all of which are cousins-german of the biscacha.
The latter makes its burrows very much in the same manner as the North-American marmot (Arctomys Ludoviciana), better known by the name of “prairie dog;” only that the subterranean dwellings of the biscacha are larger, from the needs of a bigger-bodied animal. But, strange to say, in these of the pampa there exists the same queer companionship as in those of the prairie—a bird associating with the quadruped—a species of owl, the Athene cunicularia. This shares occupation with the biscacha, as does the other, an allied species, with the prairie dog. Whether the bird be a welcome recipient of the beast’s hospitality, or an intruder upon it, is a question still undetermined; but the latter seems the more probable, since, in the stomachs of owls of the northern species, are frequently found prairie dog “pups;” a fact which seems to show anything but amicable relations between these creatures so oddly consorting.
There is yet another member of these communities, apparently quite as much out of place—a reptile; for snakes also make their home in the holes both of biscacha and prairie dog. And in both cases the reptile intruder is a rattlesnake, though the species is different. In these, no doubt, the owls find their staple of food.
Perhaps the most singular habit of the biscacha is its collecting every loose article which chances to be lying near, and dragging all up to its burrow; by the mouth of which it forms a heap, often as large as the half of a cart-load dumped carelessly down. No matter what the thing be—stick, stone, root of thistle, lump of indurated clay, bone, ball of dry dung—all seem equally suitable for these miscellaneous accumulations. Nothing can be dropped in the neighbourhood of a biscacha hole but is soon borne off, and added to its collection of bric-à-brac. Even a watch which had slipped from the fob of a traveller—as recorded by the naturalist. Darwin—was found forming part of one; the owner, acquainted with the habits of the animal, on missing the watch, having returned upon his route, and searched every biscacha mound along it, confident that in some one of them he would find the missing article—as he did.
The districts frequented by these three-toed creatures, and which seem most suitable to their habits, are those tracts of campo where the soil is a heavy loam or clay, and the vegetation luxuriant. Its congener, the agouti, affects the arid sterile plains of Patagonia, while the biscacha is most met with on the fertile pampas further north; more especially along the borders of those far-famed thickets of tall thistles—forests they might almost be called—upon the roots of which it is said to feed. They also make their burrows near the cardonales, tracts overgrown by the cardoon; also a species of large malvaceous plant, though quite different from the pampas thistles.
Another singular fact bearing upon the habits of the biscacha may here deserve mention. These animals are not found in the Banda Oriental, as the country lying east of the Uruguay river is called; and yet in this district exist conditions of soil, climate, and vegetation precisely similar to those on its western side. The Uruguay river seems to have formed a bar to their migration eastward; a circumstance all the more remarkable, since they have passed over the Parana, a much broader stream, and are common throughout the province of Entre Rios, as it name imports, lying between the two.
Nothing of all this occupies the thoughts of the three trackers, as they approach the particular biscachera which has presented itself to their view, athwart their path. Of such things they neither think, speak, nor care. Instead, they are but dissatisfied to see it there; knowing it will give them some trouble to get to the other side of it, besides greatly retarding their progress. If they ride right across it at all, they must needs go at a snail’s pace, and with the utmost circumspection. A single false step made by any of their horses might be the dislocation of a joint, or the breaking of a leg. On the pampa such incidents are far from rare; for the burrows of the biscachas are carried like galleries underground, and therefore dangerous to any heavy quadruped so unfortunate as to sink through the surface turf. In short, to ride across a biscachera would be on a par with passing on horseback through a rabbit warren.
“Caspita!” is the vexed exclamation of the gaucho, as he reins up in front of the obstruction, with other angry words appended, on seeing that it extends right and left far as the verge of vision, while forward it appears to have a breadth of at least half a league.
“We can’t gallop across that,” he adds, “nor yet go at even a decent walk. We must crawl for it, muchachos, or ride all the way round. And there’s no knowing how far round the thing might force us; leagues likely. It looks the biggest biscachera I ever set eyes on. Carra-i-i!”
The final ejaculation is drawled out with a prolonged and bitter emphasis, as he again glances right and left, but sees no end either way.
“Ill luck it is,” he continues, after completing his reconnaissance. “Satan’s own luck our coming upon this. A whole country covered with traps! Well, it won’t help us any making a mouth about it; and I think our best way will be to strike straight across.”
“I think so too,” says Cypriano, impatient to proceed.
“Let us on into it, then. But, hijos mios; have a care how you go. Look well to the ground before you, and keep your horses as far from the holes as you can. Where there’s two near together steer midways between, giving both the widest berth possible. Every one of them’s a dangerous pitfall. Caspita! what am I prattling about? Let me give you the lead, and you ride after, track for track.”
So saying, he heads his horse in among the rubbish heaps, each with its hole yawning adjacent: the others, as admonished, close following, and keeping in his tracks.
They move onward at a creeping pace, every now and then forced to advance circuitously, but taking no heed of the creatures upon whose domain they have so unceremoniously intruded. In truth, they have no thought about these, nor eyes for them. Enough if they can avoid intrusion into their dwellings by a short cut downwards.
Nor do the biscachas seem at all alarmed at the sight of such formidable invaders. They are anything but shy creatures; instead, far more given to curiosity; so much that they will sit squatted on their hams, in an upright attitude, watching the traveller as he passes within less than a score yards of them, the expression on their faces being that of grave contemplation. Only, if he draw too familiarly near, and they imagine him an enemy, there is a scamper off, their short fore-legs giving them a gait also heightening their resemblance to rats.
As a matter of course, such confidence makes them an easy prey to the biscacha catcher; for there are men who follow taking them as a profession. Their flesh is sweet and good to eat, while their skins are a marketable commodity; of late years forming an article of export to England, and other European countries.
Heeding neither the quadrupeds, nor the birds, their fellow-tenants of the burrow—the latter perched upon the summits of the mounds, and one after another flying off with a defiant screech as the horsemen drew near—these, after an hour spent in a slow but diligent advance, at length, and without accident, ride clear of the biscachera, and out upon the smooth open plain beyond it.
Soon as feeling themselves on firm ground, every spur of the party is plied; and they go off at a tearing pace, to make up for the lost time.