In the Wilds of South America

by Leo E. Miller

The longest South American snake of which I could obtain any definite information is in a Brazilian museum, and was said to be about twenty-five feet long. A skin of this size may be stretched several feet during preparation, so the snake may have been somewhat shorter in life. In the Bronx Zoological Gardens, New York, there is a living anaconda fourteen feet long; the largest boa-constrictor is eleven feet in length.

No visit to Rio de Janeiro is complete without an inspection of the botanical gardens, which cannot fail to appeal to all lovers of the beautiful. Immediately upon entering, one is confronted by avenues of stately royal palms, ninety to one hundred feet high. The “mother of the palms,” towering above all the others, is pointed out with pride by the gardeners. It is said that this was the first of the species to be planted, and that all of the others were grown from seed taken from this one plant. There are also attractive little lagoons filled with flowering pond-lilies and fishes, and bordered with graceful travellers’ palms introduced from Madagascar. Rows of bamboo form sheltered lanes where the visitor may seek relief on comfortable benches from the midday sun.

The palace Guanabara, dating back to the time of Dom Pedro, was opened for the use of Colonel Roosevelt. Its location is in the most attractive spot imaginable. Sitting at the table in the immense dining-room, one may look down a palm-lined avenue to the blue water of the bay, a half-mile distant; it was through this lane of tall, beautiful trees that Isabella, daughter of the King, drove to her daily bath in the surf.

Acting upon the invitation of officials of the Brazilian Government, Colonel Roosevelt abandoned the plans he had made previously and changed the character of the expedition from a zoological to a geographical one. Colonel Rondon, who had been engaged some years in making a survey through Matto Grosso for a telegraph-line, had discovered the headwaters of an unmapped river. This he had called the Rio da Duvida, or River of Doubt, for no one knew whither it went. The invitation to explore and map this stream was tendered to Colonel Roosevelt, and he accepted it.

We left the colonel at Rio de Janeiro, after making arrangements to meet subsequently, and continued on to Buenos Aires, spending a day en route in Santos, and one in Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay.

Although we had read and heard a great deal about the city of Buenos Aires, we were hardly prepared for the pleasant surprise that awaited us. The population of this metropolis of the south is more than a million and a half, and the city presents a clean, dignified appearance. In many respects it is as modern as New York City. There are numbers of tall edifices patterned after our own skyscrapers, large hotels, and theatres. An electric subway was just being opened, and the crowds in the Calle Florida in the late afternoon rival those of Broadway. The climate is cool and agreeable. One of the things that particularly attracted our attention was the presence one day of swarms of dragon-flies flying in a steady stream high above the city; they were blown in by violent winds, or pamperos, which sweep across the level plains country, and gave one the impression of a raging snow-storm.

As Mr. Cherrie and I were eager to devote every available moment to zoological work, we left Fiala and Sigg, whose duty it was to look after the rather appalling amount of luggage, and secured passage on the Argentine Northwestern Railroad, which had just inaugurated through service to Asuncion, Paraguay. We took only the small amount of equipment necessary for few weeks’ work, as the two others were to come up with the remainder of the baggage on the first available freight-boat. Our train was the second to make the through trip and was scheduled to run biweekly. It was composed of seven Pullmans, two baggage, and a dining car; the service was good. Leaving Buenos Aires on the afternoon of Sunday, November 2, we reached Rosario at dark. Here the train was run onto a steel boat and carried up-river a distance of sixty miles, after which it continued the journey on the east bank of the Paraná. The next night we recrossed the river on a ferry, and were landed at Encarnacion, Paraguay. Asuncion was reached late on the afternoon of Tuesday.

The railway journey had been through level plains, interspersed at long intervals with small clumps and strips of low woods; but it is essentially a grazing country and we passed numerous herds of cattle feeding on the vast, fence-enclosed ranges. Stalking about unconcernedly among the herds were small bands of semi-domesticated rheas, but they were not abundant; I doubt if we saw a hundred during the entire trip. Caracaras, or carrion-hawks, glossy ibises, our old friends the jacanas, which resembled huge grasshoppers when on the wing, rails, and spur-wing plovers, or lapwings, were plentiful. Frequently we saw the domed mud-nests of oven-birds perched upon fence or telegraph-poles, or on the lower branches of trees. Villages are few and far between, and the natives, a motley crowd of dark-skinned individuals, usually left their shambling, grass-thatched huts and came down en masse to see the train.

Asuncion is a quaint old town, plainly showing the marks of violence that have been left by frequent revolutions. Mr. Ferris, the American consul, who met us at the station and rendered us every assistance possible, had witnessed five revolutions in as many years; there had been seven presidents in the same period of time. The streets of the city are narrow and paved with cobblestones; the buildings are low, constructed of adobe, and have red-tile roofs. There are one or two banks, a college, several churches, a public market and good hotels, as well as fair electric car and light service; there is also the inevitable lottery. We noticed little business activity. An air of depression seemed to hang like a pall over the people, and this may be readily accounted for when one recalls the tragic history of their country. Many of the women were in deep mourning. One authority estimated that the proportion of women to men was eleven to one, although this is probably an exaggeration.

One of the most interesting places in Asuncion is the market. Paraguayan lace is offered for sale in quantities. It is made in intricate and dainty designs, and many of the pieces consist of numerous small “wheels” or squares that are made separately and then united to form collars, handkerchiefs, or covers. One is astonished at the quantity of fruit displayed; oranges are brought from the surrounding country in cars and barges, and shovelled, like coal, into piles or carts. Some of them are of large size, delicate texture, and excellent flavor. The choicest of these are exported and may be purchased in Buenos Aires at rather high prices.