Up the Orinoco and down the Magdalena

by J. A. Zahm

“Such are the elements of the scenery, but it is a hopeless attempt to paint the general effect. Learned naturalists describe these scenes of the tropics by naming a multitude of objects, and mentioning some characteristic feature of each. To a learned traveler this possibly may communicate some definite ideas; but who else from seeing a plant in an herbarium can imagine its appearance when growing in its native soil? Who from seeing choice plants in a hothouse, can magnify some into the dimensions of forest trees, and crowd others into an entangled jungle? Who, when examining in the cabinet of the entomologist the gay exotic butterflies, and singular cicadas, will associate with these lifeless objects, the ceaseless harsh music of the latter, and the lazy flight of the former—the sure accompaniments of the still, glowing noonday of the tropics? It is when the sun has attained its greatest height, that such scenes should be viewed; then the dense, splendid foliage of the mango hides the ground with its darkest shade, whilst the upper branches are rendered, from the profusion of light, of the most brilliant green. In the temperate zones the case is different—the vegetation there is not so dark or so rich, and hence the rays of the declining sun, tinged of a red, purple, or bright yellow color, add most to the beauties of those climes.

“When quietly walking along the shady pathways, and admiring each successive view, I wished to find language to express my ideas. Epithet after epithet was found too weak to convey to those who have not visited the intertropical regions, the sensation of delight which the mind experiences. I have said that the plants in a hothouse fail to communicate a just idea of the vegetation, yet I must recur to it. The land is one great wild, untidy, luxuriant hothouse, made by Nature for herself, but taken possession of by man, who has studded it with gay houses and formal gardens. How great would be the desire in every admirer of Nature to behold, if such were possible, the scenery of another planet! yet to every person in Europe, it may be truly said, that at the distance of only a few degrees from his native soil, the glories of another world are opened to him. In my last walk I stopped again and again to gaze on these beauties, and endeavored to fix in my mind for ever, an impression which at the time I knew sooner or later must fail. The form of the orange tree, the cocoa-nut, the palm, the mango, the tree-fern, the banana, will remain clear and separate; but the thousand beauties which unite these into one perfect scene must fade away; yet they will leave, like a tale heard in childhood, a picture full of indistinct, but most beautiful figures.”[1]

While the flora of the Orinoco, near the apex of the delta, is so varied and exuberant, but little is seen of its fauna, notwithstanding all that has been said and written to the contrary. In a recent work, for instance, written by one who pretends to have made the trip from Trinidad, is a sentence that will equal any of the extravagances of Jules Verne’s Le Superbe Orénoque.

“The jaguar,” says the author, “will stop drinking, or the tapir look up from browsing on the grass, and the monkey pause in swinging from tree to tree, as the boats hurry noisily by, while the drowsy alligator or manatee floats lazily on, his head half out of the water, until perhaps a conical bullet from a Winchester rifle or from a revolver, which everyone carries, rouses him to a knowledge that it is not good to trust too much to mankind.”

It is quite safe to say that neither the author of the work quoted nor any one else has ever seen a jaguar, or a tapir or a manatee under the circumstances mentioned. They are all timid animals and are never seen from the deck of noisy steamers.

Although we saw no quadrupeds like those just mentioned, there were countless birds, large and small. Those that were most conspicuous were ibises, flamingoes and herons of various species. So numerous at times were the flamingoes that, to borrow an idea from Trowbridge, the sunrise flame of their reflected forms actually crimsoned “the glassy wave and glistening sands.” Of the herons, the largest species is named by the natives soldado—a soldier—so called both from its size and the stately attitude it assumes, which, at a distance, gives it the appearance of a sentry on duty.

A flock of these tall, white birds, seen feeding in an everglade in Cuba was, during the second voyage of Columbus, taken for a party of men clad in white tunics, and led the Admiral to believe that they were inhabitants of Mangon, a province just south of Cathay. Indeed, so striking is their resemblance to men posted as sentinels that, according to Humboldt, “the inhabitants of Angostura, soon after the foundation of their city, were one day alarmed by the sudden appearance of soldados and garzas, on a mountain towards the south. They believed they were menaced with an attack of Indios monteros, wild Indians, called mountaineers; and the people were not perfectly tranquilized till they saw the birds soaring in the air and continuing their migration towards the mouths of the Orinoco.”[2]

Our first stopping place was Barrancas, a small and squalid village of mud, palm-thatched huts. It is situated in the centre of one of the finest grazing regions of Venezuela and under a wise and progressive government, would soon become a place of considerable importance.

In the time of the Franciscan Missions here, suppressed nearly a century ago, the herds that roamed the beautiful undulating prairies on both sides of the Orinoco counted no fewer than one hundred and fifty thousand cattle, and with the markets that could easily be had for beef and hides, this number could, under favorable conditions, be greatly increased. As it is, however, it is known rather as a favorite rendezvous for that numerous class of revolutionists for whom the country is so noted, that have been born insolvent, but who, by grandiloquent pronunciamientos, and through the coöperation of hungry spoil-seekers like themselves, hope one day to improve their financial condition.

Near Barrancas we were shown the spot where General Antonio Paredes and his confiding followers were shot in cold blood, a few days before our arrival, in pursuance of an order, we were told, that President Castro had issued from his sick bed in Macuto. This speedy, albeit unconstitutional, disposition of the leaders of what was heralded as a great popular reform movement was designed to put a quietus on other revolutionists who were making or preparing to make pronunciamientos in various parts of the republic. It did not, however, seem to have the desired effect, as during our sojourn in the country two other revolutions cropped out when least expected. For a while one of these gave the government very grave concern but was finally suppressed; not, however, until the country had suffered by anticipation many of the miseries of internecine strife.