After spending a few days at Asuncion we were invited to the home of one Professor Fiebrig, who lives at Trinidad, a few miles from the city. Professor Fiebrig is a scientist of more than local note, an instructor in the University of Paraguay, and curator of the museum. While journeying to his place we entered into conversation with two Paraguayans, apparently men of the upper class, who were travelling in the same car. When they learned our identity they shook their heads in a pitying and condescending manner. “How sad,” said one of them; “you North Americans do nothing but pursue the almighty dollar. Now, in Paraguay we live for art, literature, and science.” We had visited the natural history museum in Asuncion a few days before, and had taken note of the bullet-holes in the walls, the rents made in the stuffed animals by bayonet thrusts, and other marks decidedly not of an artistic or scientific nature.
Camp on the Rio Negro in the Gran Chaco of the Paraguay.
Selling oranges in the market at Asuncion.
Our first zoological work was done in the country near Trinidad. All about were tracts of land of considerable size, covered with low forest, patches of brush country, grassy fields, and cultivated plots. Birds were plentiful, and as practically all of them were new to us, work in this region was doubly interesting. We here formed our first intimate acquaintance with the white ani (Guira), member of a subfamily of cuckoos, large flocks of which sat like rows of beads on the fronds of palm-trees. They are slender birds, about fifteen inches long, and are striped with brown, black, and white; a row of long, narrow feathers forms a high crest. They remained soberly on their perches, awkwardly jerked their tails from side to side, and mewed dolefully. The birds seemed utterly out of place among the vivacious tanagers, creepers, and finches, and seemed to belong more properly to some remote and unrecorded past. Their flight is slow and uncertain, the birds flapping their wings and sailing alternately; when alighting they strike a most ludicrous pose and barely avert falling over frontward before finally securing their balance. The long tail helps the bird to keep its equilibrium, although adding to the awkwardness of its appearance. The bird always gives one the impression of being exceedingly miserable, and particularly so during cold, rainy weather. Then all the members of the flock will crowd close together for warmth and protection, often placing their wings over one another in an affectionate manner, and even standing perhaps on the backs of their companions. On account of its scanty covering of feathers, Guira guira is not well suited to resist cold weather. When the breeding-season arrives a huge nest is built in a cactus or low bush, usually at no great height from the ground; but the mass of sticks is not conspicuous, despite its bulky size. Occasionally a number of birds occupy the same nest, when many eggs are laid; the adults keep up a constant wailing and shrieking if their domicile is approached.
The eggs are among the most beautiful laid by any bird. They are elliptical in form and of a deep turquoise color, covered with a lace-work deposit of calcareous material. As incubation advances the shell becomes stained and the white, decorative layer wears away where the eggs rub together. Then the heretofore lovely egg bursts, and from it emerges the ugliest creature imaginable. Apparently the natives can think of no homelier object, for when they wish to call attention to the fact that one of their neighbor’s children is of a superlative degree of ugliness, they call it Pichón de Urraca (young urraca).
Mammalian life was scarce, but considering the short time available, a comparatively representative collection was made, including specimens of a small gray wolf (Cerdocyon), which roamed singly and in pairs in the country bordering the Paraguay River. A few rabbits and opossums visited the mandioc-fields at night to feed upon the succulent tubers. We had abundant opportunities to observe the rural populace in the vicinity of Trinidad. They are of a rather unambitious type, and seemed contented only when taking their noonday nap or siesta, or while drinking maté. The general language of Paraguay is Guaraní, although Spanish is used by the upper classes.
“Yerba maté” is the modern name for the caá guazú of the Guaraní. It is applied to the dried leaves of a species of South American holly (Ilex) growing abundantly in parts of Brazil, Argentina, and Paraguay. The tree is very bushy and beautiful, and remains green the year around; the leaves are small, and those of a light-green color make the best quality of tea. Several methods are employed in gathering the leaves: one is to cut down the branches, pile them into huge stacks, and apply heat for about twenty-four hours, when they are dry and ready for the next stage of manufacture, consisting of pulverization. The heating and drying process is known as torrefaction. In preparing the beverage a quantity of the powdered leaves, and sometimes sugar, also, are placed in a small, hollowed gourd, and the container is then filled with boiling water. The liquor is taken through a metal tube called bombilla, with a hollow, spoon-shaped expansion filled with small holes on the end that is placed in the gourd. It is customary to refill the container with water many times before recharging it with leaves, and to pass it around among all the members of a family and any guests who chance to be present. Everybody drinks in turn from the same maté and tube. A kettle of boiling water is kept on a charcoal brazier near at hand. Some of the containers or matés are very elaborate affairs, made of pure silver and elegantly carved or chased.
The amount of yerba maté consumed annually is enormous. It is estimated that no less than ten millions of persons in South America indulge in the habit. In Chile the annual consumption per capita is about one hundred and twelve pounds; in Paraguay thirty-four pounds, and in the Argentine twenty pounds. Quantities of it are also exported, principally to Holland. Some years the supply falls short of the demand, but plantations have added very materially to the available wild growth.