On the same spot where, erewhile, the thirsty horse anxiously snuffed the air to discover by its moisture the presence of some pool, the animal is now obliged to lead an amphibious life. The mares retreat with their foals to the higher banks, which rise like islands above the waters, and as from day to day the land contracts within narrower limits, the want of forage obliges them to swim about in quest of the grasses that raise their heads above the fermenting waters. Many foals are drowned; many are surprised by the crocodiles, that fell them by a stroke of their jagged tail, and then crush them between their jaws. Horses and oxen are not seldom met with, which, having fortunately escaped these huge saurians, bear on their limbs the marks of their sharp teeth.
‘This sight,’ says Humboldt, ‘involuntarily reminds the observer of the great pliability with which nature has endowed several plants and animals. Along with the fruits of Ceres, the horse and the ox have followed man over the whole earth, from the Granges to the La Plata, and from the coast of Africa to the mountain-plain of Antisana, which is more elevated than the lofty peak of Teneriffe. Here the northern birch-tree, there the date-palm, protects the tired ox from the heat of the mid-day sun. The same species of animal which contends in eastern Europe with bears and wolves, is attacked in another zone by the tiger and the crocodile.’
ELECTRICAL EEL. (GYMNOTUS ELECTRICUS.)
But it is not the jaguar and the alligator alone which lie in wait for the South American horse, for even among the fishes he has a dangerous enemy. The rivers and marshes of the Llanos are often filled with electrical eels, which send forth at will from the under part of the tail a stunning shock. These eels are from five to six feet long. They are able, when in full vigour, to kill the largest animals, when they suddenly unload their electrical organs in a favourable direction. Humboldt having accidentally set his foot on a gymnote which had just been taken out of the water felt the whole day severe pains in the knees and almost in every joint. Lizards, turtles, and frogs seek the morasses where they are safe from their discharges, and all other fishes, aware of their power, fly at the sight of the formidable gymnotes. They stun even the angler on the high river-bank, the moist line serving as a conductor for the electric fluid. The capture of these eels affords a highly entertaining and animated scene. Mules and horses are driven into the pond which the Indians surround, until the unwonted noise and splashing of the waters rouse the fishes to an attack. Gliding along, they creep under the belly of the horses, many of whom die from the shock of their strokes; while others, with mane erect, and dilated nostrils, endeavour to flee from the electric storm which they have roused. But the Indians, armed with long poles, drive them back again into the pool.
Gradually the unequal contest subsides. Like spent thunderclouds, the exhausted fishes disperse, for they require a long rest and plentiful food to repair the loss of their galvanic powers. Their shocks grow weaker and weaker. Terrified by the noise of the horses, they timidly approach the banks, when, wounded with harpoons, they are dragged on shore with dry and nonconducting pieces of wood; and thus the strange combat ends.
The Llanos are never more beautiful than at the end of the rainy season, before the sun has absorbed the moisture of the soil. Then every plant is robed with the freshest green; an agreeable breeze, cooled by the evaporating waters, undulates over the sea of grasses, and at night a host of stars shines mildly upon the fragrant savannah, or the silvery moonbeam trembles on its surface. Where on the margin of the primitive forest, girt with colossal cactuses and agaves, groups of the mauritia rise majestically over the plain, the stateliest park ever planted by man must yield in beauty to the charming picture of these natural gardens, bordered here by impenetrable thickets, and there by the blue mountain-chain, behind which the fancy paints scenes of still more enchanting loveliness.
The mauritia, the chief ornament of the park-like savannah, and no less useful than the date-tree of the African oasis, provides the Indian with almost every necessary, and fully deserves the name of ‘tree of life,’ bestowed upon it by the poetical fancy of the Jesuit Gumilla. Rising to the height of a hundred feet, its slender trunk is surmounted by a magnificent tuft of large, fan-shaped fronds, of a brilliant green, under whose canopy the scaly fruits, resembling pine cones, hang in large clusters. Like the banana, they afford a food differing in taste according to the stages of ripeness in which they are plucked; and before the blossoms of the male palm have expanded, its trunk contains a nutritious pith like sago, which, dried in thin slices, forms one of the chief articles of the Indian’s bill of fare. Like his brethren of the Eastern world, he also knows how to prepare an intoxicating ‘toddy’ from the juice of the flower-spathes; the leaves serve to cover his hut; out of the fibres of their petioles he manufactures twine and cordage; and the sheaths at their base afford him material for his sandals.
At the mouth of the Orinoco the very existence of the yet unsubdued Guaranas depends on the mauritia, which gives them both food and liberty. Formerly, when this tribe was more numerous than at the present day, they raised their huts on floorings stretched from trunk to trunk, and formed of the leaf-stalks of their tutelary palm. Thus, like the monkeys and parrots of their native wilds, they lived in the trees during the inundations of the Delta in the rainy season. These platforms were partly covered with moist clay, on which fire was made for household purposes; and the flames afforded a strange sight to travellers sailing on the river at night. Even now the light-footed Guaranas owe their independence to the marshy nature of their territory, and to their arboreal life.
The fruits of the mauritia, besides affording food to the Indian, are eagerly devoured by monkeys and parrots. On approaching a group of palms at the time when the fruits are ripening, the profound silence which within the tropics chiefly characterises the noon, is interrupted by a scream of warning, and soon after a numerous troop of birds wheels screeching about the grove.