I have already described the effect of the Puna climate on beasts of burthen. Its influence on some of the domestic animals is no less severe than on the human race. To cats, it is very fatal, and at the elevation of 13,000 feet above the sea those animals cannot live. Numerous trials have been made to rear them in the villages of the upper mountains, but without effect; for after a few days' abode in those regions, the animals die in frightful convulsions; but when in this state they do not attempt to bite. I had two good opportunities of observing the disease at Yauli. Cats attacked in this way are called, by the natives, azorochados, and antimony is alleged to be the cause of the distemper. Dogs are also liable to it, but it visits them less severely than cats, and with care they may be recovered.
Another scourge of the traveller in the Cordillera, is the disease called the Surumpe. It is a violent inflammation of the eyes, caused by the sudden reflection of the bright rays of the sun on the snow. By the rarefied air and the cutting wind, the eyes, being kept in a constant state of irritation, are thereby rendered very susceptible to the effects of the glaring light. In these regions the sky is often for a time completely overshadowed by snow clouds, and the greenish yellow of the plain is soon covered by a sheet of snow: then suddenly the sun's rays burst through the breaking clouds, and the eyes, unprepared for the dazzling glare, are almost blinded. A sharp burning pain is immediately felt, and it speedily increases to an intolerable degree. The eyes become violently inflamed, and the lids swell and bleed. The pain of the surumpe is the most intense that can be imagined, and frequently brings on delirium. The sensation resembles that which it may be imagined would be felt if cayenne pepper or gunpowder were rubbed into the eyes. Chronic inflammation, swelling of the eyelids, dimness of sight, and even total blindness are the frequent consequences of the surumpe. In the Cordillera, Indians are often seen sitting by the road-side shrieking in agony, and unable to proceed on their way. They are more liable to the disease than the Creoles, who, when travelling in the mountains, protect their eyes by green spectacles and veils.
Heavy falls of snow in the Cordillera are usually accompanied by thunder and lightning. During five months of the year, from November to March, storms are of daily occurrence. They begin, with singular regularity, about three o'clock in the afternoon, and continue until five or half-past five in the evening. After that time storms of thunder and lightning never occur; but the falls of snow sometimes continue till midnight. As evening approaches, cold mists are drifted from the mountain-tops down upon the plains; but they are dispersed by the rays of the morning sun, which in a few hours melt the snow. The furious tempests in these regions exceed any idea that can be formed of them, and can only be conceived by those who have witnessed them. Some of these mountain districts have acquired an ominous character for storms; Antaichahua is one of the places to which this sort of fearful celebrity belongs. For hours together flash follows flash, painting blood-red cataracts on the naked precipices. The forked lightning darts its zig-zag flashes on the mountain-tops, or, running along the ground, imprints deep furrows in its course; whilst the atmosphere quivers amidst uninterrupted peals of thunder, repeated a thousandfold by the mountain echoes. The traveller, overtaken by these terrific storms, dismounts from his trembling horse, and takes refuge beneath the shelter of some overhanging rock.
In these sterile heights, Nature withholds her fostering influence alike from vegetable and animal life. The scantiest vegetation can scarcely draw nutriment from the ungenial soil, and animals shun the dreary and shelterless wilds. The condor alone finds itself in its native element amidst these mountain deserts. On the inaccessible summits of the Cordillera that bird builds its nest, and hatches its young in the months of April and May. Few animals have attained so universal a celebrity as the condor. That bird was known in Europe, at a period when his native land was numbered among those fabulous regions which are regarded as the scenes of imaginary wonders. The most extravagant accounts of the condor were written and read, and general credence was granted to every story which travellers brought from the fairy land of gold and silver. It was only at the commencement of the present century that Humboldt overthrew the extravagant notions that previously prevailed respecting the size, strength, and habits of that extraordinary bird.
The full-grown condor measures, from the point of the beak to the end of the tail, from four feet ten inches to five feet; and from the tip of one wing to the other, from twelve to thirteen feet. This bird feeds chiefly on carrion: it is only when impelled by hunger that he seizes living animals, and even then only the small and defenceless, such as the young of sheep, vicuñas, and llamas. He cannot raise great weights with his feet, which, however, he uses to aid the power of his beak. The principal strength of the condor lies in his neck and in his feet; yet he cannot, when flying, carry a weight exceeding eight or ten pounds. All accounts of sheep and calves being carried off by condors are mere exaggerations. This bird passes a great part of the day in sleep, and hovers in quest of prey chiefly in the morning and evening. Whilst soaring at a height beyond the reach of human eyes, the sharp-sighted condor discerns his prey on the level heights beneath him, and darts down upon it with the swiftness of lightning. When a bait is laid, it is curious to observe the numbers of condors which assemble in a quarter of an hour, in a spot near which not one had been previously visible. These birds possess the senses of sight and smell in a singularly powerful degree.
Some old travellers, Ulloa among others, have affirmed that the plumage of the condor is invulnerable to a musket-ball. This absurdity is scarcely worthy of contradiction; but it is nevertheless true that the bird has a singular tenacity of life, and that it is seldom killed by fire-arms, unless when shot in some vital part. Its plumage, particularly on the wings, is very strong and thick. The natives, therefore, seldom attempt to shoot the condor: they usually catch him by traps or by the laso, or kill him by stones flung from slings, or by the Bolas. A curious method of capturing the condor alive is practised in the province of Abancay. A fresh cow-hide, with some fragments of flesh adhering to it, is spread out on one of the level heights, and an Indian provided with ropes creeps beneath it, whilst some others station themselves in ambush near the spot, ready to assist him. Presently a condor, attracted by the smell of flesh, darts down upon the cow-hide, and then the Indian, who is concealed under it, seizes the bird by the legs, and binds them fast in the skin, as if in a bag. The captured condor flaps his wings, and makes ineffectual attempts to fly; but he is speedily secured, and carried in triumph to the nearest village.
The Indians quote numerous instances of young children having been attacked by condors. That those birds are sometimes extremely fierce is very certain. The following occurrence came within my own knowledge, whilst I was in Lima. I had a condor, which, when he first came into my possession, was very young. To prevent his escape, as soon as he was able to fly, he was fastened by the leg to a chain, to which was attached a piece of iron of about six pounds weight. He had a large court to range in, and he dragged the piece of iron about after him all day. When he was a year and a half old he flew away, with the chain and iron attached to his leg, and perched on the spire of the church of Santo Tomas, whence he was scared away by the carrion hawks. On alighting in the street, a Negro attempted to catch him for the purpose of bringing him home; upon which he seized the poor creature by the ear, and tore it completely off. He then attacked a child in the street (a negro boy of three years old), threw him on the ground, and knocked him on the head so severely with his beak, that the child died in consequence of the injuries. I hoped to have brought this bird alive to Europe; but, after being at sea two months on our homeward voyage, he died on board the ship in the latitude of Monte Video.
Between the Cordillera and the Andes, at the height of 12,000 feet above the sea, there are vast tracts of uninhabited table-lands. These are called in the Quichua language the Puna; and the Spaniards give them the name of the Despoblado (the uninhabited). These table-lands form the upper mountain regions of the South American Highlands. They spread over the whole extent of Peru, from north-west to south-east, a distance of 350 Spanish miles, continuing through Bolivia, and gradually running eastward into the Argentine Republic. With reference to geography and natural history, these table-lands present a curious contrast to the Llanos (plains) of South America, situated on the other side of the Andes to the north-east. Those boundless deserts, full of organic life, are, like the Puna, among the most interesting characteristics of the New World.
The climate of these regions is not less rigorous than that of the high mountain ridges. Cold winds from the west and south-west, blow nearly all the year round from the ice-topped Cordillera; and for the space of four months these winds are daily accompanied by thunder, lightning, and snow-storms. The average state of the thermometer during the cold season (which is called summer, because it then seldom snows) is, during the night, -5° R.; and at midday, +9° 7´ R. In winter the mercury seldom falls during the night below freezing point, and it continues between +1° and 0° R.; but at noon it ascends only to 7° R. It is, however, quite impossible to determine with precision the medium temperature of these regions. For the space of a few hours the heat will frequently vary between 18° and 20° R. The transition is the more sensibly felt on the fall of the temperature, as it is usually accompanied by sharp-biting winds, so keen, that they cut the skin on the face and hands. A remarkable effect of the Puna wind is its power of speedily drying animal bodies, and thereby preventing putridity. A dead mule is, in the course of a few days, converted into a mummy; not even the entrails presenting the least trace of decomposition.
It frequently happens that, after being long exposed to these cold winds, the traveller enters warm atmospheric currents. These warm streams are sometimes only two or three paces, and at other times, several hundred feet broad. They run in a parallel direction with each other, and one may pass through five or six of them in the course of a few hours. On the level heights between Chacapalpa and Huancavelica, I remarked that they were especially frequent during the months of August and September. According to my repeated observations, I found that these warm streams chiefly follow the direction of the Cordillera; namely, from S.S.W. to N.N.E. I once travelled the distance of several leagues through a succession of these currents of warm air, none of which exceeded seven-and-twenty paces in breadth. Their temperature was 11° R. higher than that of the adjacent atmosphere. It would appear they are not merely temporary, for the mule-drivers can often foretel with tolerable accuracy where they will be encountered. The causes of these phenomena well merit the investigation of meteorologists.