Although by no means a nervous person or one so dotingly fond of animals that he exaggerates every little evidence of ill treatment, I have ever taken a keen interest in animal welfare, and what I have seen during my stay of nearly two years in South America has led me to look upon some of these Latin Republics as almost incredible hells of suffering for the so-called “lower animals.” I am much tempted here to write a general chapter on the subject, covering my observations not only in the Argentine and in Uruguay, but in Chili, Bolivia, Peru, and elsewhere, for it is remarkable to what an extraordinary extent the various republics differ in the treatment of animals. The Chilians, for instance, are moderately careful of their horses, incomparably the finest in South America, while dogs are allowed to multiply like so much vermin, and throughout the country hundreds may be seen short of a leg! The Indians, on the other hand, and especially those of Bolivia, treat horses with gentleness and seem on the friendliest of terms with their dogs, while even the large troops of llamas, the burden bearers of the Bolivian plateau, are handled with no evidence of brutality. In the Argentine, however, horse and mule and dog are the subjects of such indiscriminate cruelty that it will be sufficient if I confine myself to recording a few of the instances seen by me and others that were matter of common report during my stay. For of all the republics mentioned, the Argentine is most deserving of the title wherewith I have headed this chapter, noticeable improvement in the treatment of animals being evident in Uruguay.
It is difficult to explain why the mere crossing of a river should produce a change in human character, yet I assert that the lot of man’s friend, the horse, is far happier in Uruguay than in the Argentine. It may be that the Uruguay horse is of better quality, better fed, and so fitter for service, thus saving the driver from the need of thrashing it soundly and incessantly every journey it makes. But I am not so sure of this, for I have seen Argentine drivers maltreating fine, spirited horses just as severely as the broken-kneed and spavined jades so commonly seen between the shafts.
Or perhaps it is something of a local habit, originating, it may be, in the inferior quality of the horseflesh. Conceivably, a driver who has only found it possible to make his horse go by thrashing, becomes so habituated to the act of thrashing, that every horse coming under his hands will receive like treatment, merely from long practice and not from necessity. Be the reasons what they may, the facts I deem it my duty to set down are incontestable.
As a lover of dogs, I was particularly interested in watching their treatment in Buenos Ayres, and I am not ashamed to confess that sights which I saw there haunted me for days, and still remain indelibly impressed on my memory. First, let me explain the admirable system of the municipality for cleaning the city of all stray curs. A branch of the sanitary department maintains several wagons which every day visit different districts. Each wagon is attended by an employee in addition to the driver,—an expert in the art of throwing the lasso, in which the Argentine gaucho is unrivalled. So afraid are these brave fellows of being bitten in the attempt to capture some poor diseased or dying dog which ought to be destroyed, that they lasso them in the public streets, and, thus secured, chuck them into the wagon. The dogs are then supposed to be taken to a general depot to be put out of existence as painlessly, we should hope, as possible.
Now this, on the face of it, is no bad scheme for ridding the city of canine undesirables, and every humanitarian should applaud it, in so far as it reduced the stray dogs, nearly all which are diseased, having for that reason been turned adrift by heartless owners. But, unfortunately, the able official with the lasso never thinks of capturing a stray dog, or a dog it would be a kindness to kill. He has a far more profitable game to play. His attention is devoted to lassoing the very best dogs he can see, whose owners will then have to go to the depot and pay anything from one to five dollars, according to the mood of the gentleman in charge, to have their animals returned!
Plaza Independencia, Montevideo.
The central building in the background is the Government House, or official residence of the President.
The Plaza Libertad, or Cagancha, Montevideo.