In the Wilds of South America

by Leo E. Miller

Our Indians were all well armed and frequently took long shots at some of the creatures that ventured to show themselves in the early mornings or just before dark. They were expert archers and even shot large birds on the wing as the flocks passed overhead. Occasionally an otter appeared, always a hundred yards or more away, swimming rapidly with only the head showing above the water. These animals were favorite targets, and from my seat in the middle of the canoe I had an unobstructed view of the arrows in flight as they left the bow of the man in front; he did not aim at his prey, but quite some distance above it. At the twang of the bow the arrow sped into the air, ascending slightly at first, and then dropping as it approached the mark; it described a curve exactly like a bullet fired from a rifle, and remained in a perfectly horizontal position during the entire flight.

When making camp on a sand-bank the Indians stuck their bows and arrows in the ground, near the shelters; this prevented their being stepped on and broken. In damp or rainy weather the arrows warped badly, but it was only a few minutes’ work to heat them near a fire and bend them back into alignment.

Tropical rivers are noted for their treachery. One can never be certain of their actions or character, even a few hours hence. We had a striking example of this on the Chimoré. Camp had been made on an extensive sand-bank one day at noon, as we planned to spend a few hours hunting and fishing in the neighborhood. The sun shone brightly and there was nothing to indicate a change of conditions in any manner whatever; but scarcely had the canoes been unloaded and a fire built over which we intended to do the cooking when we were startled by a dull roar that grew louder with each passing second; before we had time to hurriedly gather our belongings and throw them into the canoes a foam-capped, seething wall of water was upon us, sweeping down the river and carrying away everything in its path. As the tidal wave, several feet high, dashed over the sand-bank, the imprisoned air shot up from the great cracks and rents in the sun-baked earth, and set the raging mass of muddy water to hissing and boiling. In a few minutes only the higher mounds of sand projected above the roaring inferno, and against these hungry tongues of water lapped greedily until their bases were undermined. Then the whole mass crumbled and disappeared in the seething flood. Where our peaceful camp had stood but a few minutes before there was now a sea of agitated water. The explanation of this phenomenon is simple: A heavy rain had fallen in the mountains where the tributaries of the river rise, and the torrent of water dashing down the precipitous slopes had rushed into the lowlands. After this the water was so muddy that it was unfit for use without special preparation. In order to secure a supply for drinking and cooking we boiled a quantity of it; the sand was quickly precipitated to the bottom as the temperature rose, after which the clear water could be poured off the top. In some instances the amount of solid matter carried by the water was fully 50 per cent of the total volume.

Animals were not abundant on the river-banks, although we saw a deer or a small flock of curassows at infrequent intervals. If we went into the forest a short distance, however, we were sure to find game in abundance. On one occasion the Indians demonstrated their skill at calling up monkeys. A large troop of cebus and squirrel-monkeys were feeding in the tree-tops, but for some reason the men did not give chase as they usually do; they concealed themselves in the thick lower growth and whistled a few plaintive kee-oows. In a short time the animals began to evince a great deal of interest or curiosity, and many of them descended to the lower branches. Then the hunters shot a number with their arrows before the band realized what had occurred and took flight.

Large areas covered with an impenetrable cane-jungle are scattered all along the borders of the Chimoré. The tall stalks rise to a height of fifty feet or more, and are beautiful to look at, but impossible to penetrate until a trail has been cleared with hatchet or machete. The plant resembles the well-known sugar-cane of our Southern States, but grows much taller, and the stems are thin and hard. A large, white, feathery plume crowns each stalk. This plant is of inestimable value to the natives. The long poles are used almost exclusively in constructing their dwellings, and the leaves make an impervious thatch. Practically every stalk is infested with thick white grubs which live in the pith. These are extracted by the Yuracarés, who call them chata, and used for bait when fishing. Many runways perforate the matted growth; these have been made by capybaras, agoutis, and numerous other animals. Even tapirs seem to appreciate the protection afforded by the thick cover and resort to it in the daytime, while jaguars noiselessly steal along the paths in the course of their nightly prowls. One night we had an excellent illustration of how useful the cane-plant, or chuchilla, as the Indians call it, can be in an emergency. We had landed on a sand-bank rather early in the evening, spurred to this action by rapidly approaching black clouds, flashes of lightning, and the rumbling of distant thunder which bespoke the arrival of a tropical rain-storm. At first it looked as if we should be compelled to endure a thorough drenching, but Padre Fulgencio issued a few orders to the canoemen, and they hurried away to neighboring cane-brakes, with machete in hand; soon they returned, dragging an immense quantity of the plant; four of the strongest poles were firmly planted in the sand to form a square, about fifteen feet apart, and the tops bent over and tied together with strips of their leaves. These served as the corner posts of a shelter. Other stalks were laid across the top to form rafters, and firmly tied. The men then piled many more on top, binding each one to the rafter, until a complete hut had been built; although the height of the roof was fully eight feet, the ragged edges came down to the ground, entirely enclosing the sides and forming a snug retreat against which the elements raged without avail. After the first deluge had subsided other and smaller shelters were built. The Indians enjoyed the experience thoroughly; they threw aside all clothing, built fires over which fish and game were placed to roast, and squatted around the embers in a circle, doubtless indulging in pleasant reminiscences of the days before civilization with its restricting influences, and had come into their care-free existence.

Early next morning we were awakened by the reverberating howls of monkeys. The Indians rushed in a body from their shelters and, snatching up bows and arrows, ran in pursuit. A troop of red howlers had come to the chuchilla near our shelters; we could see none of the animals, but the tops of the canes waving as if agitated by a violent gust of wind told us of their whereabouts. Soon we heard shouts followed by the twang of bows and the snarl of arrows as they ripped through the flesh of the luckless victims. This continued until the creatures disappeared in the interior of the dense jungle, and then the hunters returned, dragging their quarry after them. We were eager to continue on our way, but in view of the efficient and willing service rendered by the men the night before it was decided to wait a few hours and permit them to have a feast. A huge fire was built, and the monkeys, after having been skinned and washed, were set on spits to roast. The Indians crowded around, sang and shouted, and tore off and ate chunks of the half-roasted flesh. In a short time our orderly Yuracarés had returned to the realms of savagery, and were indulging in a performance such as I had repeatedly seen among the wild Nhambiquaras of Matto Grosso.

Lower down we saw numerous islands, some of large size and of a peculiar formation. The river, which had risen so rapidly a few days before, had gone down to its normal level and left these obstructions in the channel exposed high above the surface. A matted mass of logs and branches of which a layer fifteen feet thick protruded above the water, formed the base of the islands; on this soil had gathered to a depth of five or six feet, and supported a luxuriant growth of vegetation. These islands are composed of deposits of driftwood which were left stranded on sand-banks during the season of high water, and while the edges are torn and jagged the force of succeeding floods seems to be of insufficient strength to wash them away. As we paddled along quietly near the banks the priest or the Indians pointed out many interesting and curious plants. One of these is the palo santo, or holy tree; it grows to be a great height, but the trunk is comparatively slender. The peculiar name is derived from the fact that it is as carefully guarded as any sacred object should be, but in this instance by myriads of fire-ants, which live in the hollow interior of the trunk. If the tree is struck sharply with a stick the ants pour out in endless files through minute openings. They are vicious insects, and the bite smarts and burns many hours after it is inflicted. The tacuara, a species of tall, feathery bamboo, is another interesting plant of this region. When the stalk is cut down the leaves shrivel and dry within a few minutes. Large numbers of cabbage-palms grew throughout the forest. The beautiful, plume-shaped leaves droop in a great umbrella-like mass from the top of a column sixty or seventy feet high; thick clumps of straight, tough roots branch out eight or ten feet above the ground and form a solid support to the stem. A delicious salad is made from the tender leaves, folded up in the bud; or if boiled the flavor is similar to that of asparagus. To secure the bud it is, of course, necessary to cut down a tree which has taken the greater part of a century to mature, but in a region where many millions are growing one is not inclined to be sentimental, and will only bemoan the fact that it requires an hour’s hard work to chop through the steel-like trunk before the coveted morsel is brought down.

The country between the Guapay and Ichilo is probably as little known as any part of South America. This strip of land, covering approximately five thousand square miles, is heavily forested, and is the home of a tribe of savages known as the Sirionós. Judging from the accounts given to us by our canoemen and the priest, they must be a terrible and indomitable race. The Yuracarés fear them greatly, and as we neared the Ichilo they preferred to keep the canoes in the centre of the river and seemed reluctant to land; if they shot at an animal and the arrow missed its mark and dropped in the forest they did not go in search of it; a half-day of careful work is needed to make an arrow, and as a general rule Indians are very particular to hunt for any they may lose; but in this instance they preferred the loss of the arrows to risking their skins in the dense cover.

There were four Yuracarés at the mission, one, a girl of twelve years, who bore unsightly scars—the result of having been ambushed by parties of the Sirionós tribe; I was also told that occasionally some of them are killed.

The Sirionós seem to have no permanent homes and cultivate the ground to a very limited extent, if at all. They are a tribe of wanderers, and roam the forest in small parties, killing game for food. In appearance and stature they are not unlike the Guarayos, but in temperament they are totally different and have successfully resisted every attempt made to subdue them. Their weapons are bows and arrows, the former of great height and so powerful that they cannot be drawn with the arms alone. In order to shoot the Indian throws himself on his back, grasps the bow with the feet and draws the cord with both hands; the arrows, of which the priest had collected a number, are seven or eight feet long and made of wild cane or chuchilla. Apparently they are unacquainted with the use of poison.