Waikna

by E. G. Squier

THE DEATH OF THE TAPIR.

The Poyer boy was dispatched to the camp for fire and pine splints, which, stuck in the ground around the tapir, answered for torches. By their light my companions proceeded to cut up the spoil, a tedious operation, which occupied them until daylight. I did not wait, but went back to my hammock, leaving them to finish their work, undisturbed by my questions.

When I awoke in the morning, I found Antonio had the tapir’s head baking in the ground, from whence rose a hot but fragrant steam. It proved to be very good eating, as did also the feet and the neck, but the flesh of the animal in general was abominably coarse and insipid, although my companions seemed to relish it greatly. I found it, like that of the manitus, exceedingly laxative.

Some idea may be formed of the tapir’s tenacity of life, when I say that I counted upward of thirty lance-thrusts in the body of the one we killed, none of which were less than six inches deep, and nearly all penetrating into the cavity of the body! It rarely happens, therefore, that the animal is killed by the individual hunter. The hide is quite as thick, and I think harder than that of the manitus, which, when dried, it closely resembles.

I should weary the reader were I to enter into all the details of our life at the “Tapir Camp,” as I called it, in honor of the exploit I have just recounted. During the eight days which we spent there, I learned more of nature and her works than I had known before. I spent hours in watching the paths of the black ants, tracing them to their nests in the trees, which were dark masses, as large as a barrel, made up of fragments of leaves cemented together. From these paths, which were from four to six inches wide, all grass, leaves, sticks, and other obstructions, had been removed, and along them poured an unbroken column of ants, thousands on thousands, those bound from the nest hurrying down one side of the path, and those bound in, each carrying aloft a piece of green leaf, perhaps half an inch square—a mimic army with banners—hurrying up the other. I amused myself, sometimes, by putting obstructions across the path, and watching the surging up of the interrupted columns. Then could be seen fleet couriers hurrying off to the nest, and directly the path would be crowded with a heavy reënforcement, invariably headed by eight or ten ants of larger size, who appeared to be the engineers of the establishment. These would climb over and all around the obstruction, apparently calculating the chances of effecting its removal. If not too heavy, they disposed their regiments, and dragged it away by a grand simultaneous effort. But if, on examination, they thought its removal impossible, they hurried to lay out a road around it, clearing away the grass, leaves, twigs, and pebbles with consummate skill, each column working toward the other. The best drilled troops could not go more systematically and intelligently to work, nor have executed their task with greater alacrity and energy. No sooner was it done, than, putting themselves at the head of their workies, the engineers hastened back as they came, ready to obey the next requisition upon their strength and skill.

Here I may mention that there is no end of ants under the tropics. They swarm every where, of unnumbered varieties—from little creatures, of microscopic proportions, to those of the size of our wasp. It is always necessary, when on land, to hang one’s provisions by cords from the branches of trees, or they would literally be eaten up in a single night. There is one variety, called the hormegas, by the Spaniards, which has an insatiate appetite for leather, especially boots, and will eat them full of holes in a few hours. All the varieties of acacias teem with a small red, or “fire ant,” whose bite is like the prick of a red-hot needle. The unfortunate traveler who gets them in any considerable numbers on his person, is driven to distraction for the time being. It is difficult to imagine keener torment.

Thousands of small, light-colored bees gathered round the fallen trunks of the coyol-palms, to collect the honey-like liquid that exuded here and there, as the juice began to ferment. I soon ascertained that they were stingless, and amused myself in watching their industrious zeal. I gradually came to observe that when each had gathered his supply, he rose, by a succession of circuits, high in the air, and then darted off in a certain direction. Carefully watching their course, I finally traced them to a low, twisted tree, on the edge of the swamp, in the hollow of which they had their depository. Of course, I regarded this as a fortunate discovery, and we were not slow to turn it to our advantage. I had less scruples in cutting down the tree, and turning the busy little dwellers out on the world, since they had no winter to provide for, and could easily take care of themselves. The supply of honey proved to be very small, and seemed to have been collected chiefly for the support of the young bees. We obtained only four bottles full from the tree. In taste it proved to be very unlike our northern honey, having a sharp, pungent, half-fermented flavor, causing, when eaten pure, a choking contraction of the muscles of the throat. Antonio mixed some of it with the “vino de coyol,” which, after fermentation, produced a very delicious, but strong, and most intoxicating kind of liqueur.

On the afternoon of the eighth day, the moon having reached her last quarter, we packed our little boat, and just as the night fell, worked our way slowly through the little, obstructed canal to the lagoon, which now expanded to the north. We paddled boldly through the middle, the better to avoid observation from the shore. The night was dark, but wonderfully still, and I could hear distinctly the sound of drums and revelry from the villages on the eastern shore, although they must have been fully three miles distant.

I left “Tapir Camp” with real regret. The days had glided by tranquilly, and I had enjoyed a calm content, to which I had before been a stranger. For the first time, I was able to comprehend the feeling, gathering strength with every day, which induces men, sometimes the most brilliant and prosperous, to banish themselves from the world, and seek, in utter retirement, the peace which only flows from a direct converse with nature, and an earnest self-communion.