In the Wilds of South America

by Leo E. Miller

There being no United States Consul in Tucuman, I appealed to the British Consul for assistance. He very kindly spent many hours calling on various officials, from the governor down, explaining our mission and asking that the small matter be arranged for us. Our quest seemed hopeless until one day a copy of one of the large daily newspapers arrived from Buenos Aires, and in this I found an account of how representatives of Latin-American countries who were attending the scientific congress in Washington had been received and entertained at the American Museum of Natural History during their visit to New York. Armed with this clipping I again invaded the palacio. Ordinarily I should not have done such a thing, as there are many reasons why it is not commendable, but the situation was desperate and called for aggressive tactics. Suffice it to say that this visit was the last. A mild comparison of how their people were treated in our country, and the difficulties we had in theirs was sufficient, and when I left the building the permit was in my pocket.

The Sierra de Tucuman, a range of comparatively low mountains, rises directly west of the city. This we found to be covered with a growth of tall, dense forest, so we lost no time in moving there. We left the city by rail and proceeded southwestward to a small station called San Pablo, a short distance away. This is in the heart of the sugar region and vast fields of cane stretch on either side of the railway. Here and there the tall brick chimneys of a refinery rise above the waving green fields, and wide, deep canals divide the cultivated areas into sections and supply water for irrigation.

A good cart-road leads from San Pablo up the side of the mountain to the very summit, four thousand six hundred feet high, where the little town of Villa Nougués is situated. This settlement is a favorite resort of the wealthier class of people who come up from Tucuman to spend the summer months in pleasant châteaux, thereby avoiding the heat of the lower country.

The view from the top of the range is superb; the country to the east is perfectly level, and is laid out in symmetrical fields of cane as far as the eye can see. A small, muddy river, threading its way through the ocean of green divides it into two sections and vanishes into the horizon in a haze of purple mist. To the west stands the stern Andean chain, barren and precipitous, its summit hidden in banks of cold, gray clouds.

We made a first camp in the forest below Villa Nougués, at an altitude of four thousand feet. From the very first day we had heard the shrill little call of a bird which we attributed to the much-coveted tapacola (Scytalopus) we were looking for; but the elusive creature always remained in concealment among the ferns and mosses and not once did we get a glimpse of it. Then we secured ox-carts and moved to the other side of the mountain, where, we were told, hunting was not so difficult.

Birds were not abundant, the fall migrations having left the forest almost deserted. The few species which remained, however, such as wood-hewers, thrushes, tanagers, and jays, were plentiful, and several kinds of humming-birds added life and color to the sombre green of the vegetation. After many days we succeeded in tracing the mysterious chirp to its source, and found, not the bird we were seeking, but a dainty little wood-wren of the shyest possible nature. The minute, secretive creature seemed to spend its entire time among the buttresses, roots, and moss-draped undergrowth, where no ray of sunlight ever penetrated to dispel the chill and semidarkness, or give a touch of warmth to the soggy mould. Its glimpses of daylight must be brief indeed, and at infrequent intervals. We had come to the mountains in a state of enthusiasm and expectancy, for here it seemed we should succeed in ending our long quest for the tapacola. As the days passed, thrilling excitement gave way to exasperation, and finally disappointment alone remained to fill the void created by the flight of the other emotions.

We returned to Tucuman for a brief time, and then struck for the forest farther south. This time we left the railroad at a station called Acherál two and one-half hours from Tucuman, and camped in the forest at the foot of the ridge. Again we were doomed to disappointment. Birds were more abundant than at Villa Nougués, but the tapacola was not forthcoming. There were, however, numerous other interesting species. Pigmy woodpeckers (Picumnus) selected the patches of high brush and second-growth woods just without the edge of the forest proper. They are little larger than a good-sized humming-bird, dark or black above, white underneath, and have a red cap. Their industrious hammering always advertised the presence of a pair as they hopped quickly along the trunks and branches, tapping for worms or excavating a nesting-site.

The woods were undermined with tunnels made by the queer tuco-tuco, or oculto (Ctenomys), a species of which we had come in contact with in Brazil. We set a steel trap in one of the subterranean runways, carefully covering with a log the opening we had made; soon a series of low grunts emanated from the spot, and we found a fine, large specimen of the strange rodent safely held by the steel jaws.

Bottle flies were so numerous as to prove a most disagreeable pest. Blankets, clothing, food, and specimens alike were covered with “blow” if left exposed for but a few minutes. We were lucky in possessing enough netting with which to rig up covers for everything, but even then numbers gained entrance, and we had to clean the infested articles frequently by passing them over a fire or by scraping and brushing.

After a few days we concluded that a visit to the top of the range, which at this point attains an altitude of over ten thousand feet, was necessary. We secured a pack-train of mules from Acherál, and one morning at one o’clock started up the steep slope. A full moon showered a flood of light upon the earth, but the overhanging branches formed a thick canopy over the trail, impermeable to the silvery radiance save when an occasional breeze stirred the leafy arch, thus permitting fitful shafts of light to pierce the darkness of the tunnel, and to fall in quavering, dancing blotches on the ground. We could almost feel the impenetrable blackness which closed in from all sides like water in a deep, dark pool. The light touch of a streamer dangling from the moss-festooned branches overhead, or the velvety swish of fern leaves protruding beyond the protecting walls of tree-trunks, made it seem as if the forest were peopled with hovering, invisible forms. No sound disturbed the brooding silence of the night except the dull hoof-beats of the mules as, guided by some mysterious instinct, they cautiously picked their way through the muddy and rock-strewn lane.