Roraima and British Guiana, With a Glance at Bermuda, the West Indies, and the Spanish Main

by J. W. Boddam-Whetham

The Pirate, although he could not read, knew many of the lines by heart, and made an admirable clerk, although I much doubt whether his knowledge was more than that of a parrot. Our friend lived on the Cako River, and together with the rest of his party was on his way down the Mazaruni to sell birds and hammocks. Thinking that on our arrival at the Cako the assistance of these men in obtaining woodskins might be valuable, we easily induced them by the promise of food and a few knives, &c., to retrace their footsteps, and aid us in carrying our quakes.

When we started next morning it was still raining, but the ludicrous appearance of the Pirate made us forget all discomfort. On his head, shoulders, back, and perched all over his quake were a number of parrots; we saw nothing of the man but his legs, he was literally clothed with parrots. These birds were not in the least alarmed at the brown-skinned Indians, but whenever McTurk or myself approached they uttered their harsh cries, and whilst some in terror ran their claws deep into the poor man’s flesh, others fluttered off into the bush and caused much loss of time before being recaptured.

Our path differed but little from that of the preceding day; we hardly ever touched the ground, but limped painfully over the matted roots. We continually crossed small streams and creeks, whose water ran fresh and sparkling over the stony beds, except when we were hot and thirsty, and then it generally lay in tepid, stagnant pools among the rocky basins. These Indian paths are not always easy to follow, so little do they vary in appearance from the surrounding bush. The original picking out of such a path must have been of considerable difficulty, as in the dense forest there are few landmarks to steer by, nothing in fact but the sun. A track once made, however, even by a single Indian, is easily recognized by the sharp-eyed natives, to whom a broken twig, or a scratched root, tells the story of a previous traveller. So exactly do they follow the narrow trail—always in single file—that often for miles the very footsteps of the explorer are trodden by his successors. I think paiworie has much to do with the generally true direction of these paths, as if you were to place a trough of that liquor on one side of a trackless forest twenty miles in breadth, and an Indian on the other, the two would meet in a very short space of time.

The vegetation which surrounded us was not of a very interesting nature, as the soil was often poor and stony, and frequently covered with a carpet of selaginella or other lycopods. A pretty little dark blue and white gloxinia was very abundant, and in swampy places grew yellow lilies and various cannas. The dakama trees strewed the ground in every direction with their brown nuts, of the size of an orange, and having a pink and white core. These are uneatable, and it was only occasionally that we found the delicious Souari nuts, whose finely grained kernel rivals the most delicate almond. Besides the buttressed forms of the bombaceæ, there were strange-looking trees whose trunks were made up of a number of thick stems joined together at a height of ten or twelve feet from the ground. One that I measured had eight separate supports, and above where they united the trunk had a circumference of over twenty-five feet. We saw no game birds, although we sometimes heard the drumming of a “pani”—curasson—or the shrill notes of a mâam. In addition to the tolling of the bell-birds, we frequently recognized the harsh peacock cry of the “cock of the rocks”—Pipra rupicola—and near one of their dancing places we shot three specimens. The colour of the Guiana species in the male differs from that of Ecuador and Peru in being much lighter; instead of crimson it is a splendid orange on the body, and the wing feathers are brown instead of black and silver grey. The short square tail is ringed with reddish yellow, and the orange crescent-shaped feathers placed on the head like a cocked hat are edged with black.

In Australia the bower-birds—Chlamydoderæ—build their galleries and cabins, and in New Guinea the gardener-bird[80] not only builds a house but also arranges pleasure-grounds around it, and here in Guiana the “cock of the rocks” has his dancing place. The spot chosen is a mossy level, which is cleared of stones and sticks, and surrounded by low bushes. The assembled birds form a circle, and presently an old cock walks into the ring and with spreading tail performs a series of steps, which from the Indian account of them must vary from those of a stately minuet to those of the “Perfect Cure.” When he is tired, he receives the applause of the hen-birds and retires, another taking his place. Some of their upward leaps are said to be astonishing, and are repeated in rapid succession until the bird is exhausted. It is during these antics that the natives shoot them or capture them alive, as so absorbed are both the spectators and the performers that they pay no attention to the stealthy approach of the Indian. In captivity these delicate birds soon languish, and out of two that I sent home from Georgetown, one died on the passage, and the other only lived about a month in spite of great care and attention. The dancing grounds of the “cocks of the rock” are unadorned with flowers, fruit or shells; as long as they are smooth and free from stones, the birds are satisfied and apparently believe that their own bright plumage is a sufficient ornamentation, and that they can afford to turn their attention to the study of graceful accomplishments. Also among the birds of Paradise, the beautiful plumaged species do not construct bowers or gardens, a gift which is possessed only by their more intellectual but less ornamental brethren.

We camped after our second day’s tramp near a stream called the Lamung, and at once sent back to the old camp a sufficient number of men to bring on the remaining quakes the following day. The good temper and cheerfulness with which all the carriers, and especially the new contingent, performed their double journeys was really remarkable; and, though these forest journeys were to most a natural part of their lives, yet we could not help feeling sorry for the great but unavoidable labour. We remained in camp all next day, but sent forward a number of quakes, the carriers returning, so that the entire number might be ready to depart with all the remaining baggage when we again set out. Besides the palm-leaf covering of each individual quake, those that were sent forward or left behind were ranged by the side of the path on poles, and well protected from the weather by broad leaves and branches. Naturally they formed very conspicuous objects, and though they must continually have been noticed by several parties of Indians that passed on their way to the Curipung River, yet nothing was ever touched or in any way disturbed.

In one of our rambles around the camp we killed a beautifully marked boa-constrictor, about nine feet in length and very thick. Another disagreeable visitor we had was an enormous hairy monkey-spider (araña monos) six inches long and with two formidable nippers like a bird’s talons. On touching it with a stick it threw itself back into a fighting attitude, clashed its nippers and twined its long legs about the wood in its efforts to break it. We saw no wild beasts, but the Indians reported having seen a large tiger,[81] which walked slowly along the path in front of them, close to the camp, and disappeared in the bushes. One of them had a gun, but he was too frightened to fire.

A circumstance, trivial in itself, here very nearly put an end to my journey. Charlie, whose zeal had outrun his discretion, in drying my boots had placed them so near the fire that they were roasted; consequently when I put them on the following morning, they literally came to pieces in my hands, and during the day the heel of one of them dropped off. As I knew that without them it would be impossible for me to reach Roraima, for with our limited luggage one pair of thin canvas shoes was all I had besides, my future occupation whenever we arrived at our camping ground was that of a cobbler. McTurk and Charlie first of all cunningly re-attached the heel, and ever afterwards I managed by the aid of string and bush-rope to keep the different parts together. So carefully did I nurse and mend them, that they actually brought me back to Macrebah, which was as far as necessary, but the anxiety caused by so simple an accident can hardly be imagined.

During that day we shot a pani, for which we were duly thankful, as good fresh meat had of late been very scarce. Game was not plentiful, and as McTurk was extremely anxious to complete the expedition as quickly as possible—as the men were paid by the day—we wasted but little time in looking for it. In many parts the bush growth was ill adapted for game of any sort, and in the likely places, though we heard panis and duraquaras, yet we could not get a shot at them. Seldom had the truth of the old proverb “a bird in the hand, &c.,” been more forcibly presented to us.