In the Wilds of South America

by Leo E. Miller

At Tilcara we lived with another Italian family, but of an entirely different type. The village, the elevation of which is eight thousand feet, stands about half a mile from the railway-station. We were engaging peons to carry our luggage there when the man stepped up and offered us the use of part of his humble home, which stood within a hundred feet of the spot. We accepted the invitation, and during our entire stay were treated with great courtesy.

There is a narrow valley between high, rugged, barren peaks, some of which are snow-capped. Parts of the depression are dry and semiarid; others, marshy and covered with high, rank grass. Small Indian huts built of stones or adobe are strewn about, and there are numerous fields from which the rocks have been gathered through years of effort so that the land may be cultivated.

There were many birds. They represented a fauna intermediate between that of the high, cold plateau and that found lower down at Rosario de Lerma. Large red-breasted meadow-larks (Troupialis) were common and always found in pairs. Of hummers there were numerous kinds, attracted by clumps of flowering shrubs that grew alongside the fences; the giant humming-bird and the gorgeous coppery-tailed comet were particularly plentiful. The former are very stupid. They came fluttering along like awkward swallows and often settled comfortably on a branch near to us, from which they would inspect us at their leisure, while they chirped and darted out the tongue like a snake. One of the comets that we collected had eaten quantities of gnats and small ants.

The walls of a deserted Quechua hut had been appropriated by a flock of bay-winged cowbirds (Molothrus badius) for their nesting-sites. Dozens of small, round holes penetrated the thick, earthen walls, and some of them extended entirely through; the latter were not occupied. Apparently whatever birds had drilled the cavities, frequently surprised themselves by emerging suddenly into the daylight they were trying to get away from, at the far end of the burrow. However, not to be discouraged, repeated other attempts were made, some of which were successful as the walls varied in thickness. A small, flat nest of sticks lined with a few feathers comprised the bay-wing’s domicile. Some of them contained young birds, and one had five eggs in it. The adult birds always remained in a flock in the vicinity and kept up a shrill screaming while we were near.

Large, blackish rails inhabited the reedy marshes; they came in flocks to feed in the velvety green islands interspersed among the weed and water covered areas. Watching from a concealed position, we could see them strut unconcernedly about, flicking their tails over their backs and jerking their necks and picking up the tiny mollusks and insects that were so abundant. When alarmed they craned their necks, looked about inquisitively, then gave a few hoarse cackles and ran into the weeds; within a few moments they returned, one at a time, and at first slowly and cautiously; but soon, forgetting that danger might lurk near by, they rushed for the spots where food was most abundant. Rails are peculiar and interesting birds. The body is narrow and compressed like a flea’s; this enables them to slip through the dense reeds and water-plants in which they live. The comparatively long bills make it possible for them to pick up food in shallow water. Their long, slender toes, giving the feet a wide spread, make walking on floating vegetation and soft mud easy; nevertheless, at least some species are good swimmers.

Flocks of night-herons spent the days in a small clump of willows fringing the marsh. At dusk they grew very active and we could hear them croaking from afar. They are splendid eating.

As at Pulqué and the Pilcomayo, birds were hard pressed for nesting-sites. Giant club-cacti apparently were at a premium. The old, disused nests of brush-birds (Synallaxis), or leñateros, were inhabited by mocking-birds which built a nest of their own within the huge structure of twigs; and, when the mocking-birds were away, cowbirds slipped in and deposited a few eggs. One mocking-bird had been so unwise as to place its nest in a thorny bush covered with dense foliage so that it could not be watched from a distance and defended from cowbirds; before the owners were ready to use their new home, it had received many visits from the black parasites (M. b. bonariensis) who left their cards in the shape of fourteen speckled eggs. We collected this “set” but have the idea that this only encouraged the cowbirds to increased efforts.

The abundance of ducks in South America in places where one least expects to find them, is a source of never-ending surprise. A small stream flows through the valley at Tilcara. It is nowhere more than twenty feet across, and two or three feet deep, but flocks of green-winged teals visited it regularly at dawn and dusk. They swam in the rapid water, and then lined up on the rocky bank for a quiet nap.

The inhabitants of Tilcara shot many, but others came to the same place daily.

Of mammals there were but few. Cavies, as usual, lived among the rock piles and in the stone fences, and a few other small rodents inhabited the grain-fields. One day we secured a fine specimen of the rare, elusive yellow cat called gato pampero, or pampas-cat. It was stealing cautiously along the river-bank; but I am unable to say whether it had come in quest of fish or merely for the purpose of quenching its thirst. Our work in this region being completed, we returned to Perico, and prepared for the journey to Embarcacion.