A deserted Indian hut on the Cerro Munchique.
We discovered a deserted Indian hut in the centre of a large, overgrown, abandoned plantation, and made it our headquarters for a week or more. The site was ideal. Tall forest hemmed in the clearing on all sides, and a rivulet of clear, icy water flowed near the shack. The elevation was eight thousand two hundred and twenty-five feet. Obviously, the place had been unoccupied for a number of years, doubtless owing to the fact that maize and rice would not thrive at this high altitude. However, these same conditions were most congenial to a host of other vegetation. Blackberries and rhododendrons, with lilac, red, white, pink, and yellow flowers formed a solid tangle, acres in extent, and creepers entirely covered the tall, dead stubs, and crowned them with a thick canopy of green leaves from which clusters of orange and scarlet trumpetflowers drooped.
At night the temperature went down to about 45°, but this did not deter giant hawk, owl, and sphinx-moths from appearing at dusk to feast on the nectar of the myriads of flowers. The little stream was the rendezvous for numberless frogs. One hardly suspected their presence during the daytime unless a careful search was made of the rotting wood that littered the ground, and of the tangled, snakelike stems of second-growth sprouts and leaves; but at night the concert was always sure to begin in startling volume. Some of the notes reminded me of our own spring peeper; others were sharp and metallic, like the twanging of a banjo-string; and others were low and mellow like the murmuring of a ’cello. They all blended into a deafening chorus of unflagging animation and unvaried monotony. At first the din was rather disconcerting, but gradually there came to us the realization that this was but the bubbling over of care-free little hearts rendering a song of happiness and thanksgiving to nature for the pure, unsullied joy of an unfettered existence.
Birds were not particularly plentiful in the forest. There were, however, a number of interesting forms, particularly among the tanagers. One species (Psittospiza riefferi) was about the size of a robin and of a deep grass-green color, with a chestnut-colored face and abdomen; these birds live singly and in pairs in the tall trees and are of a wary disposition. Another tanager (Sporathraupis) has a bright-blue head and olive-green back; the breast is deep, dull blue merging into golden yellow on the legs. The natives called this bird jilguero, a name applied to the solitaire in other localities. It lives in the lower branches of trees, travelling in pairs or small flocks and feeds on fruit; the song is not unpleasant, but cannot compare with any solitaire known to me.
While collecting one morning my attention was attracted by a chorus of chirps and screams, and following up the sounds I reached a tall tree where a peculiar bird drama was being staged. A number of California woodpeckers (Melanerpes flavigularis) had drilled numerous holes in the tree-trunk, from which sap trickled in small streams. A dozen or more buff-tailed hummers (Boissonneaua flavescens) had apparently come for their daily jag, for the sap very evidently had an intoxicating effect. Arriving in a bee-line, newcomers landed against the trunk, where they clung like so many moths, the buff-colored tail spread wide and against the bark for support. Their antics as the different stages of hilarity were reached were most amusing. They twittered, fought, turned, and tumbled in the air; others dozed on small twigs, and several fluttered toward the ground in an exhausted condition. This performance continued daily for a week, until the sap suddenly ceased to flow; then the tree was deserted and silent, the capricious band having no doubt sobered up from their debauch and gone back to their normal and more profitable pursuits in life.
In getting water from the brook, one of our men discovered a narrow trail under a giant log. We justly surmised that animals of some sort used the runway in journeying to and from the water. A trap was set in the path, and next morning a fine white opossum of large size had been safely ensnared. In the days that followed we secured an even dozen of the animals. They proved to be a form unknown to science that now bears the name Didelphis paraguayensis andina. The cook said that they were delicious eating, and prepared for us an unusually fat individual; but we found the meat of rather strong flavor, and not very palatable. A solitary weasel (Mustela affinis costaricensis) was also taken in the same spot. It would be interesting to know whether this animal came down to drink, or was in pursuit of some of the other creatures that frequented the runway. Weasels are courageous, active, and bloodthirsty little animals; their eyesight is poor, but their sense of smell is keen and they will tirelessly follow their intended victim until it falls into their clutches. I have frequently heard that they attack and kill small deer by clinging to the neck and doggedly chewing their way through the skin until the jugular vein is severed; this does not seem probable to me, however, and it is far more reasonable to believe that rats, mice, frogs, and other small creatures form the bulk of their prey. On account of their slender proportions, they can trail the quarry through small holes and crevices; in addition, they are also expert climbers. On one occasion, while “squeaking” to attract a bird, a weasel came instead, looking for the supposed helpless creature, and ran over my feet without suspecting the fraud.
They will fight savagely to protect their nest, usually made in a hole in the ground or hollow stump, and I know of one instance where one of the animals sprang into the face of a native who had trapped its mate at the mouth of a burrow.
Nearly a month had passed since we left Popayán, but the time had been spent so pleasantly and profitably that it seemed scarcely longer than a week. Our scheduled time for the region had been exhausted, however, so we reluctantly retraced our steps to Popayán.