In the Wilds of South America

by Leo E. Miller

The water of the Guaviare is muddy, while that of the Atabapo is of a clear red color and unfit for drinking. There are few fish, no crocodiles or sand-flies, and practically no mosquitoes, all of which is attributed to the discolored water. Two small springs near the town furnish an abundant supply of potable water, and when during the rainy season these are covered with the overflow from the river it is necessary to paddle across and fill the water-jars from the Guaviare.

To secure a crew of men for our trip up the river was a difficult undertaking and required a great deal of time. This gave us an opportunity of exploring the surrounding country.

In the immediate vicinity of San Fernando the forest has been cut down and tall second-growth sprouts form dense thickets; this is a favorite resort of many small birds, and several species of night-hawks make it a daytime rendezvous. The basic granite crops out in many places, the strata occasionally standing on end, and it is often streaked with narrow seams of quartz. There is no cultivation of any kind; the inhabitants lack all initiative for work and eat tinned foods and mandioc received in exchange for trinkets from the Indians.

When we returned a few months later a changed town confronted us. The rubber-collectors had returned from their several months isolation in the interior, and were spending the fruits of their labor as rapidly as possible. Dance-halls, gaming-dens, and almost every conceivable device for relieving men of their money had sprung up like mushrooms, and there was drinking and merrymaking day and night. Then suddenly, and without presage, a tragedy occurred; it will never be forgotten by the few who survived.

Governor Pulido, so it was rumored, had imposed a new tax on all rubber collected in the district, and had come to San Fernando to personally collect the extortion. Naturally, there was a good deal of dissatisfaction, and one night, just after we had been provided with a canoe and secretly advised to leave as soon as possible, the storm broke. A band of men, said to be under the leadership of one Colonel Funes, an Indian and the most notorious man in the district, attacked the town, killed the governor, and practically the entire male population, and rifled the shops and dwellings. If one may believe the tales of the few who escaped the brutalities committed that night, the deeds rival those of the most barbaric ages.

Perhaps some of those who perished deserved their fate, others assuredly did not; but it is a fact that government offices had been conducted abominably. In the post-office, for example, stamps were sold for twice their face value, and if one did not purchase them there and place them on the letters in full view of the postmaster, the mail was destroyed. A physician who chanced to be there, named La Page, and who apparently belonged to the military organization as he wore the regulation uniform, tried to collect over four hundred dollars gold for a few injections of quinine; and so the robbery went on until the whole band was exterminated.

Having engaged a captain with some experience on the Upper Orinoco, and a crew, we on February 3 loaded the low batelão and started on our mission, reaching a point called Puerto Ti Ti that night; from this spot a wide trail leads through the magnificent forest to the clearing wherein stands San Fernando.

For six days we made slow but steady progress up the river, and then entered the formidable Raudal de Santa Barbara, which extends across the entire delta of the Ventuari.

The Orinoco is wide but with few exceptions so shallow that we pushed along with long poles. Where the water was deep and the current swift, long-handled hooks were used to catch the overhanging vegetation and pull the boat along. This latter mode of travel was always slow and dangerous and the swarms of wasps and other insects living among the leaves, and shaken down, were far from being agreeable travelling companions. The banks were covered with dense, virgin forest; but there were extensive sand-banks and flat ledges of rock at convenient intervals, and one of these was always chosen for a night’s camping-site. If we chanced to be on a playa, the early hours of the evening were spent in fishing. Armed with machetes, a bag, and acetylene-lamps, we waded out in the shallow water and “shined” the shoals of fish much in the manner that frogs are caught in parts of this country. At night the fish swam near the surface, and by directing the rays of the strong white light upon them one could approach to within a short distance and then strike with the knife: in this manner large numbers were taken. Occasionally a stingray, electric eel, or crocodile was suddenly encountered and then there ensued a hurried scramble in the other direction; this gave the pastime a decided element of sport. We also became more familiar with the dreaded caribe or cannibal fish, known as the piranha in Brazil, with which the water teemed. In the Orinoco they attain a weight exceeding three pounds and are formidable indeed. The natives will not go in bathing except in very shallow water, and I know of two instances where men were attacked and severely bitten before they could escape. The fish somewhat resembles a bass in shape, although the mouth is smaller; the jaws are armed with triangular, razor-edged teeth; and as they travel in immense shoals they are capable of easily devouring a man or large animal if caught in deep water. Floundering or splashing in the water attracts them, but they seldom attack unless their appetite has been whetted by a taste of blood; and then woe to the unfortunate creature which falls into their power. To catch them, we used a large hook secured to a long wire leader and baited with any kind of raw meat, and they always put up a good fight. Without a wire, a line would be bitten in two every time a fish struck. When taken from the water they are first killed by a blow on the head with the machete, and then removed from the hook.

At night there was always a heavy dew, and it rained intermittently each day. On dark nights, and often after a shower, the banks of the river where there was forest glowed with twinkling phosphorescence. Examination showed that the decaying vegetation was filled with myriads of small, wriggling insects, greatly resembling our well-known cellar-bug (Isopod), and one day we paddled for many hours through a mass of flying ants which had come to grief in the river. The water was covered with them and the waves had tossed them up on the banks to a depth of several inches. Another thing that attracted our attention was the large number of bats. On one occasion we heard a dull rumbling among the granite ledges near camp, and not long after a stream of bats began to emerge from the cracks; from a distance they resembled a cloud of smoke. There must have been many thousands, for the black masses continued to rise until darkness obscured them from our view. Spruce records that on one occasion he saw not less than a million under similar circumstances. This brings up an interesting problem. The individual range of these bats is probably not very great, the result of which is that immense numbers of them are distributed over a comparatively small area. Now, if the struggle for existence is as keen as is often supposed, how can the female, encumbered with her offspring fully three-fourths as large as herself, compete successfully with the unhampered males, and secure enough food not only for herself but also for her young? The fruit-eating varieties might not suffer seriously from this handicap, but it does seem as if the agility of the insectivorous kinds catching their food on the wing would be greatly affected.