The Hunters' Feast: Conversations Around the Camp Fire

by Mayne Reid

We were not without a subject, however, as our English friend proposed giving us an account of the mode of hunting the vicuña, and the details of a week’s hunting he had enjoyed upon the high table-lands of the Peruvian Andes. He also imparted to our camp-fire circle much information about the different species of that celebrated animal the llama or “camel-sheep” of Peru, which proved extremely interesting, not only to the old hunter-naturalist, but to the “mountain-men,” to whom this species of game, as well as the mode of hunting it, was something new.

Thompson began his narrative as follows:—“When Pizarro and his Spaniards first climbed the Peruvian Andes, they were astonished at seeing a new and singular species of quadrupeds, the camel-sheep, so called from their resemblance to these two kinds of animals. They saw the ‘llama’ domesticated and trained to carrying burdens, and the ‘alpaca,’ a smaller species, reared on account of its valuable fleece.

“But there were still two other species of these odd animals only observed in a wild state, and in the more desolate and uninhabited parts of the Cordilleras. These were the ‘guanaco’ and ‘vicuña.’

“Up to a very late period the guanaco was believed to be the llama in its wild state, and by some the llama run wild. This, however, is not the case. The four species, llama, alpaca, guanaco, and vicuña as quite distinct from each other, and although the guanaco can be tamed and taught to carry burdens, its labour is not of sufficient value to render this worth while. The alpaca is never used as a beast of burden. Its fleece is the consideration for which it is domesticated and reared, and its wool is much finer and more valuable than that of the llama.

“The guanaco is, perhaps, the least prized of the four, as its fleece is of indifferent quality, and its flesh is not esteemed. The vicuña, on the contrary, yields a wool which is eagerly sought after, and which in the Andes towns will sell for at least five times its weight in alpaca wool. Ponchos woven out of it are deemed the finest made, and command the fabulous price of 20 pounds or 30 pounds sterling. A rich proprietor in the cordilleras is often seen with such a poncho, and the quality of the garment, the length of time it will turn rain, etcetera, are favourite subjects of conversation with the wearers of them. Of course everybody in those parts possesses one, as everybody in England or the United States must have a great coat; but the ponchos of the poorer classes of Peruvians—the Indian labourers, shepherds, and miners—are usually manufactured out of the coarse wool of the llama. Only the ‘ricos’ can afford the beautiful fabric of the vicuña’s fleece.

“The wool of the vicuña being so much in demand, it will be easily conceived that hunting the animal is a profitable pursuit; and so it is. In many parts of the Andes there are regular vicuña hunters, while, in other places, whole tribes of Peruvian Indians spend a part of every year in the chase of this animal and the guanaco. When we go farther south, in the direction of Patagonia, we find other tribes who subsist principally upon the guanaco, the vicuña, and the rhea or South-American ostrich.

“Hunting the vicuña is by no means an easy calling. The hunter must betake himself to the highest and coldest regions of the Andes—far from civilised life, and far from its comforts. He has to encamp in the open air, and sleep in a cave or a rude hut, built by his own hands. He has to endure a climate as severe as a Lapland winter, often in places where not a stick of wood can be procured, and where he is compelled to cook his meals with the dry ordure of wild cattle.

“If not successful in the chase he is brought to the verge of starvation, and must have recourse to roots and berries—a few species of which, such as the tuberous root ‘maca,’ are found growing in these elevated regions. He is exposed, moreover, to the perils of the precipice, the creaking ‘soga’ bridge, the slippery path, and the hoarse rushing torrent—and these among the rugged Cordilleras of the Andes are no mean dangers. A life of toil, exposure, and peril is that of the vicuña hunter.

“During my travels in Peru I had resolved to enjoy the sport of hunting the vicuña. For this purpose I set out from one of the towns of the Lower Sierra, and climbed up the high region known as the ‘Puna,’ or sometimes as the ‘Despoblado’ (the uninhabited region).

“I reached at length the edge of a plain to which I had mounted by many a weary path—up many a dark ravine. I was twelve or fourteen thousand feet above sea level, and although I had just parted from the land of the palm-tree and the orange, I was now in a region cold and sterile. Mountains were before and around me—some bleak and dark, others shining under a robe of snow, and still others of that greyish hue as if snow had freshly fallen upon them, but not enough to cover their stony surface. The plain before me was several miles in circumference. It was only part of a system of similar levels separated from each other by spurs of the mountains. By crossing a ridge another comes in view, a deep cleft leads you into a third, and so on.