A narrative of travels on the Amazon and Rio Negro,

by Alfred Russel Wallace

I staid here nearly two months, enjoying a regular country life, and getting together a tolerable collection of birds and insects.

In a few days a hunter I had engaged in Barra arrived, and forthwith commenced operations. In the afternoon he generally brought me some birds or monkeys, which were very plentiful. We rose about half-past five, and by six had a cup of hot coffee; I then sat down to skin birds, if any had been brought late over-night, or, if not, took my gun and walked out in search of some. At seven or half-past we had a basin of Indian-meal porridge, or chocolate, with new milk, as a sort of breakfast. At twelve punctually we dined, the standing dish being tambakí, varied occasionally with fowl, cow-fish, deer, or other game. At four we had another cup of coffee, with biscuit or fruit, and at seven we took supper of fish like our dinner, if the fisherman had arrived. In the morning, for a couple of hours, I generally went with my net in search of insects. Several rare butterflies were found sitting on the river’s side, on the margin of mud left by the retiring waters. Small toucans or araçaris of several species were very abundant, the rarest and most beautiful being the “curl-crested,” whose head is covered with little glossy curls of a hard substance, more like quill or metallic shavings than feathers. These are at times plentiful, but did not appear till some weeks later than the other species, when I was at last rewarded for my patience by obtaining several beautiful specimens.

The common black vultures were abundant, but were rather put to it for food, being obliged to eat palm-fruits in the forest when they could find nothing else. Every morning it was an amusing sight to see them run after the pigs the moment they got up, three or four following close at the heels of each animal, for the purpose of devouring its dung the moment it was dropped. The pigs seemed to be very much annoyed at such indecent behaviour, and would frequently turn round and take a run at the birds, who would hop out of the way or fly a short distance, but immediately resume their positions as soon as the pig continued his walk.

I am convinced, from repeated observations, that the vultures depend entirely on sight, and not at all on smell, in seeking out their food. While skinning a bird, a dozen of them used to be always waiting attendance at a moderate distance. The moment I threw away a piece of meat they would all run up to seize it; but it frequently happened to fall in a little hollow of the ground or among some grass, and then they would hop about, searching within a foot of it, and very often go away without finding it at all. A piece of stick or paper would bring them down just as rapidly, and after seeing what it was they would quietly go back to their former places. They always choose elevated stations, evidently to see what food they can discover; and when soaring at an immense height in the air, they will descend into the forest where a cow has died or been killed, long before it becomes putrid or emits any strong smell. I have often wrapped a piece of half putrid meat in paper and thrown it to them, and even then, after hopping up to it, they will retire quite satisfied that it is only paper, and nothing at all eatable.

Senhor B. had two fine sows, very fat, and each was expected to bring forth a litter of pigs in a few days. There were no pig-sties or sheds of any kind; and all animals retire into the forest on such occasions, and in a few days return with their young family, just as cats do with us. These sows had both disappeared for some days, and had not returned, and we began to be afraid that a jaguar which had been heard near the house, and whose track had been seen, had destroyed them. A search was accordingly made, and the remains of a sow were discovered in a thicket not far from the house. The next night we heard the jaguar roaring within fifty yards of us, as we lay in our hammocks in the open shed; but there being plenty of cattle, pigs, and dogs about, we did not feel much alarmed. Presently we heard a report of a gun from an Indian’s cottage near, and made sure the animal was dead. The next morning we found that it had passed within sight of the door, but the man was so frightened that he had fired at random and missed, for there are some Indians who are as much cowards in this respect as any one else. For two or three days more we heard reports of the animal at different parts of the estate, so my hunter went out at night to lie in wait for it, and succeeded in killing it with a bullet. It was an onça of the largest size, and was believed to have killed, besides the sow, a cow which had disappeared some weeks previously.

The weather was now very dry: no rain had fallen for some time; the oranges were fully ripe, and the grass, so green and fresh when I arrived, was beginning to assume a brownish-yellow tinge. Tobacco-picking had begun, and I saw the process of the manufacture as carried on here. Tobacco is sown thickly on a small patch of ground, and the young plants are then set in rows, just as we do cabbages. They are much attacked by the caterpillar of a sphinx moth, which grows to a large size, and would completely devour the crop unless carefully picked off. Old men, and women, and children are therefore constantly employed going over a part of the field every day, and carefully examining the plants leaf by leaf till the insects are completely exterminated. When they show any inclination to flower, the buds are nipped off; and as soon as the leaves have reached their full size, they are gathered in strong wicker baskets, and are laid out in the house or a shed, on poles supported by uprights from the floor to the ceiling. In a few days they dry, and during the hot days become quite crisp; but the moisture of the night softens them, and early in the morning they are flaccid. When they are judged sufficiently dry, every leaf must have the strong fibrous midrib taken out of it. For this purpose all the household—men, women, and children—are called up at four in the morning, and are set to work tearing out the midrib, before the heat of the day makes the leaves too brittle to allow of the operation. A few of the best leaves are sometimes selected to make cigars, but the whole is generally manufactured into rolls of two or four pounds each. The proper quantity is weighed out, and placed regularly in layers on a table in a row about a yard long, rather thicker in the middle. Beginning at one end, this is carefully rolled up and wound round with a cord as tightly as possible. In a few days these rolls are opened out, to see if there is any tendency to heat or mould, and if all is right they are again made up with greater care. Every day they are rebound tighter and tighter, the operator sitting on the ground with the cord twisted round a post, and winding and tightening with all his strength, till at length the roll has become compressed into a solid mass about an inch in diameter, and gradually tapering towards each end. It is then wound closely from end to end with a neat strip of the rind of the Uarumá (a water-rush), and tied up in bundles of an arroba and half an arroba (thirty-two and sixteen pounds), and is ready for sale. When the tobacco is good, or has, as they term it, “much honey in it,” it will cut as smooth and solid as a piece of Spanish liquorice, and can be bent double without cracking. The price varies according to the quality and the supply, from 4d. to 1s. per pound.

One day the fisherman brought us in a fine “peixe boi,” or cow-fish, a species of Manatus, which inhabits the Amazon, and is particularly abundant in the lakes in this part of the river. It was a female, about six feet long, and near five in circumference in the thickest part. The body is perfectly smooth, and without any projections or inequalities, gradually changing into a horizontal semicircular flat tail, with no appearance whatever of hind limbs. There is no distinct neck; the head is not very large, and is terminated by a large month and fleshy lips, somewhat resembling those of a cow. There are stiff bristles on the lips, and a few distantly scattered hairs over the body. Behind the head are two powerful oval fins, and just beneath them are the breasts, from which, on pressure being applied, flows a stream of beautiful white milk. The ears are minute holes, and the eyes very small. The dung resembles that of a horse. The colour is a dusky lead, with some large pinkish-white marbled blotches on the belly. The skin is about an inch thick on the back, and a quarter of an inch on the belly. Beneath the skin is a layer of fat of a greater or less thickness, generally about an inch, which is boiled down to make an oil used for light and for cooking. The intestines are very voluminous, the heart about the size of a sheep’s, and the lungs about two feet long, and six or seven inches wide, very cellular and spongy, and can be blown out like a bladder. The skull is large and solid, with no front teeth; the vertebræ extend to the very tip of the tail, but show no rudiments of posterior limbs; the fore limbs, on the contrary, are very highly developed, the bones exactly corresponding to those of the human arm, having even the five fingers, with every joint distinct, yet enclosed in a stiff inflexible skin, where not a joint can have any motion.

The cow-fish feeds on grass at the borders of the rivers and lakes, and swims quickly with the tail and paddles; and though the external organs of sight and hearing are so imperfect, these senses are said by the hunters to be remarkably acute, and to render necessary all their caution and skill to capture the animals. They bring forth one, or rarely two, young ones, which they clasp in their arms or paddles while giving suck. They are harpooned, or caught in a strong net, at the narrow entrance of a lake or stream, and are killed by driving a wooden plug with a mallet up their nostrils. Each yields from five to twenty-five gallons of oil. The flesh is very good, being something between beef and pork, and this one furnished us with several meals, and was an agreeable change from our fish diet.

As I now expected a canoe shortly to arrive, bringing me letters and remittances from England, after which I was anxious to set off for the Upper Rio Negro as soon as possible, I determined to return to Barra, and having agreed for a passage in a canoe going there, I took leave of my kind host. I must however first say a few words about him. Senhor José Antonio Brandão had come over from Portugal when very young, and had married early and settled, with the intention of spending his life here. Very singularly for a Portuguese, he entirely devoted himself to agriculture. He built himself a country house at Manaquery, on a lake near the main river, brought Indians from a distance to settle with him, cleared the forest, planted orange, tamarind, mango, and many other fruit-bearing trees, made pleasant avenues, gardens, and pastures, stocked them well with cattle, sheep, pigs, and poultry, and set himself down to the full enjoyment of a country life. But about twenty years ago, while his family were yet young, disturbances and revolutions broke out, and he, as well as all natives of Portugal, though he had signed the constitution of the Empire, and was in heart a true Brazilian, became an object of dislike and suspicion to many of the more violent of the revolutionists. A tribe of Indians who resided near him, and to whom he had shown constant kindness, were incited to burn down his house and destroy his property. This they did effectually, rooting up his fruit-trees, burning his crops, killing his cattle and his servants, and his wife and family only escaped from their murderous arrows by timely flight to the forest. During the long years of anarchy and confusion which followed, he was appointed a magistrate in Barra, and was unable to look after his estate. His wife died, his children married, and he of course felt then little interest in restoring things to their former state.

He is a remarkably intelligent man, fond of reading, but without books, and with a most tenacious memory. He has taught himself French, which he now reads with ease, and through it he has got much information, though of course rather tinged with French prejudice. He has several huge quarto volumes of Ecclesiastical History, and is quite learned in all the details of the Councils, and in the history of the Reformation. He can tell you, from an old work on geography, without maps, the length and breadth of every country in Europe, and the main particulars respecting it. He is about seventy years of age, thirsting for information, and has never seen a map! Think of this, ye who roll in intellectual luxury. In this land of mechanics’ institutions and cheap literature few have an idea of the real pursuit of knowledge under difficulties,—of the longing thirst for information which there is no fountain to satisfy. In his conversation there was something racy and refreshing: such an absence of information, but such a fertility of ideas. He had read the Bible in Portuguese, as a forbidden book, though the priests make no very great objection to it here; and it was something new to hear a man’s opinions of it who had first read it at a mature age, and solely from a desire for information. The idea had not entered his mind that it was all inspired, so he made objections to all parts which he thought incredible, or which appeared to him to be capable of a simple explanation; and, as might have been expected, he found of his own accord confirmation of the doctrines of the religion in which he had been brought up from childhood.