In the Wilds of South America

by Leo E. Miller

There was an abundance of birds on the paramo, especially along the bush-grown banks of the streamlet; but all were of dull colors—slaty blue, gray, black, or deep brown, that harmonized well with the bleak surroundings. Their habits reminded us of open-country birds of the northern United States. Gray flycatchers ran over the ground; at frequent intervals they mounted high in the air, like horned larks, for which we at first from a distance mistook them. A small wren-like bird, black with brown flanks (Scytalopus sylvestris), lived in the taller herbage. It had a piping note that could be clearly heard fifty yards away, but the agile bird was hard to see on account of its obscure color and mouse-like habits that kept it constantly in the thickest cover. Numerous marsh-wrens (Cistothorus æquatorialis) inhabited the sedges, scolding and nervously flitting about.

More interesting than the foregoing, however, were large Andean snipe (Gallinago nobilis) bearing at least a superficial resemblance to the American woodcock. Single individuals or pairs of these birds were found running over the bogs and drilling in the soft earth. In many places the ground was perforated with dozens of the deep, symmetrical holes where the tireless workers had labored diligently for a meal. Shooting them was good sport. They sprang into the air with a piping bleat and then sped away in a zigzag course for fifty or a hundred yards, dropped back to earth and instantly merged into their surroundings so completely as to be invisible.

The finches were perhaps better represented than any other family of birds. A few goldfinches, in small bands, frequented the flowering shrubs. A kind of slaty finch (Phrygilus unicolor grandis) was far more abundant and fairly evenly distributed over the entire paramo. We discovered a nest of this species among the grass at the base of a frailejon; the structure was beautifully made of down taken from the leaves of the plants that sheltered it. It contained two pear-shaped eggs of a greenish color heavily speckled with fine dull-brown dots.

From a distance the small lake at the head of the valley appeared to be a promising field for investigation. It yielded, however, but a solitary Andean teal greatly resembling the gadwall (Chaulelasmus), that was swimming on the unruffled water, and when this had been taken our work in that particular spot was completed. The bottom of the pond was covered with a solid mass of long algæ far out as we could see; these concealed any aquatic life that may have existed in the chilly depths.

The weather was usually agreeable during the greater part of the day, the thermometer registering in the neighborhood of 76° at noon, and dropping to 30° at night. It rained little, but banks of clouds rolled in frequently and precipitated a superabundance of moisture.

One day Allen and I undertook an exploration trip to the snow-line. We started at daybreak, taking with us our guns, an abundant supply of ammunition, cameras, and a small parcel of lunch. We made straight for the head of the valley, passed the lake, and had soon reached the top of the weathered ridge that formed the first barrier to our progress. From the summit, fourteen thousand four hundred feet up, we could see numerous other isolated depressions like the one we had just left; in one of them was a newly made trench—probably the work of some venturesome miner who had drifted to this lonely place in search of gold. So far we had had not a glimpse of snow on account of the heavy mist. We followed along the top of a hogback running northward and gradually leading to higher country that flattened out into a marshy plateau on its farther end. Progress was difficult. At each step the bog quivered within a radius of several yards and the clumps of matted vegetation depressed by our weight were quickly covered with water that oozed from below. This was an ideal spot for snipe and several sprang up as we painfully picked our way over the treacherous ground; but the great exertion and high altitude had a demoralizing effect on our aim, with the result that we were relieved of a good deal of ammunition without securing a single bird in return.

A high wall of bare rock rose just beyond the confines of the bog, and gaining the top of it we were up fifteen thousand feet. It was covered with blackened rock fragments—mostly the result of weathering, but some of them probably detached from the many towering crags and columns by the shattering force of lightning. The highest point in the wall is fifteen thousand two hundred feet. As we rested a moment to recover our breath, a procedure necessary every twenty steps, the fog suddenly lifted and disclosed the snow-bound slopes of Ruiz a short distance away. Between us lay a valley flanked by perpendicular walls of rock and hundreds of feet deep. The snow apparently extended down two hundred feet lower than our station, making its lower limit fifteen thousand feet.

We stood lost in admiration at the marvellous spectacle that unfolded itself before us. The hurrying curtains of clouds revealed ever-changing scenes. One moment miles of slopes covered with a white mantle of snow stood out in bold relief; the next, they were whisked from view and bare pinnacles of dark rock, like the spires of a cathedral, appeared momentarily high above, their ragged outlines softened by a veil of thin blue haze. Again, the lower edges of the panorama came into view, revealing glaciers and avalanches of snow and rocks perched on the brink of the wall ready to plunge with a boom into the deep valley.

The floor of the valley was a series of ponds and morasses. Ducks disported in the cold water, all oblivious of our presence, and apparently safe in their, at least to man, inaccessible retreat. A raging torrent tore along the base of the wall, adding its roar as a fitting accompaniment to the general awe-inspiring character of its desolate and inhospitable surroundings.

A whisp of vapor borne on a chill wind hurried across the intervening chasm and blew into our faces. Time had passed faster than we realized and we discovered that half of the afternoon was gone. Hurriedly we began to retrace our steps along the wall of rock and through the treacherous bog. By the time the sharp ridge was reached, clouds in such volumes had rolled in over the paramo that everything was obscured outside of a radius of a few yards from us. There was no trail of any kind, and even the most familiar rocks assumed strange shapes swathed in the dank vapor. A compass is useless under such circumstances. Before long we reached the interlacing mass of ridges and, after holding a consultation, followed along the top of one that seemed to lead in the right direction. We stumbled along for two hours or more, and then realized that we were lost. Darkness was fast approaching and a raw wind swept down from the region of perpetual ice and snow. We began to look for a sheltered spot in which to spend the night, for it now seemed certain that each step was only taking us farther from camp. Just then a rift in the clouds appeared, and before it again closed we caught sight of a faint glimmer far below and to the right. That could mean but one thing: it was a reflection from the lake at the head of “our” valley. For more than an hour we had been travelling in exactly the opposite direction. We gave up the thought of a bed of frailejon leaves without regret and stumbled down the steep slope straight for the spot where the lake had flashed into view. After many collapses from thirst and fatigue we reached the brook with its crystal, ice-cold water; then progress was easier, and within another hour the glow of the camp-fire appeared through the haze, and soon we were snugly ensconced in the depths of our blankets.