Unlike the higher plains, where only a coarse herbage predominates, the savannas of Apure are characterized by a luxuriant growth of various grasses, which, like those of the Portuguesa, preserve a uniform verdure throughout the year. These grasses—some of which are as soft and pliable as silk—are most important in the economy of cattle-breeding in the savannas watered by the Apure and its tributaries. The prodigious increase of animals in these plains is mainly owing to the superiority of the pastures over those of the upper regions of the Llanos, from whence the farmer is compelled to migrate with his stock every summer.
I noticed in Apure three varieties of grass, which in richness of flavor and nutritious qualities can hardly be surpassed by any other fodder plants of the temperate zones. In the early part of the rainy season, the granadilla—a grass reaching to about four feet in height, with tender succulent blades and panicles of seed not unlike some varieties of broomcorn—starts with the earliest showers of spring. It grows with great rapidity, and is greedily sought by all ruminants; but being an annual, soon disappears, leaving no vestige of its existence. In the alluvial bottomlands subject to the periodical inundation, two other grasses, no less esteemed for their nutriment, have an uninterrupted growth and luxuriance which the hottest season cannot blast; these are the carretera, named from the beautiful prairie-goose that feeds on it, and the lambedora, so termed on account of its softness, animals feeding on it appearing to lick rather than masticate it. Cattle and horses thrive on it very perceptibly, and even calves only a fortnight old, may be left to shift for themselves amidst those nutritious pastures.
Esteros is the name by which these perennial meadows are there designated. They have moreover the
advantage of retaining water enough throughout the year to make them the resort of all kinds of quadrupeds and of every fowl whom “Nature has taught to dip the wing in water,” the former to allay their thirst and feast on the fine grass, and the latter for the purpose of raising their young in the vicinity of ponds well stocked with fish of all varieties.
No description can convey a just idea of the appearance presented by these lagoons, crowded with almost every variety of animal. The birds in particular—most of which belong to the extensive family of cranes—seem to have migrated there from all quarters of the globe. These fluttering communities of aquatic birds are known in the country under the appropriate name of garzeros, from the many garzas—herons—predominating in them. The immense number of these may be conceived from the fact that their colonies sometimes embrace several miles in extent. I noticed there also various kinds of cranes—garzones—one of them, called the soldier, from its erect bearing and martial air—is over five feet in height, with a bill fully a foot long. The garzas were of various sizes and colors, some snow-white, some a delicate blue, others gray or pink, and many of a brilliant scarlet. Although cranes and herons are species very nearly allied, yet they verify the old saying, “birds of a feather flock together,” for each keeps quite distinct from the other. They generally select the spreading top of a low tree—caujaro—growing in vast quantities near the water, in which to build their nests; these are of dry sticks very ingeniously interwoven among the branches. Well-beaten tracks are made under the bushes by the tramp of many suspicious characters of the feline tribe, who make these feathered colonies their favorite resort, where they improve every opportunity of appropriating any young birds that may chance to fall from the nests.
As we rode past several ponds, covered with a kind of water-lily, whose flowers are of a dark purple color, myriads of ducks, of the small species called güiriries, rose in the air, actually for the moment obscuring the sun. They uttered a shrill note, clearly repeating the sound from which they are named, so that the hunter easily discovers their whereabout. There were, besides, great numbers of a larger species of duck—the pato real, or royal duck—so named, I presume, from a graceful tuft of black feathers with which it is crowned. Here and there a brace of carreteros soared over head, uttering their peculiar rolling notes; the hoarse quacking of the male bird, followed by the shrill cries of the female, make perfect the before-mentioned resemblance to the rumbling of cartwheels.
During the moulting season, the people in the neighborhood of these lagoons resort to them from time to time, and drive without difficulty towards the farm-house as many of these ducks as they may desire. I was assured by several reliable individuals that not far from San Pablo there is a lagoon on the borders of which a regiment of cavalry once encamped, and lived during a fortnight exclusively on these birds, without any apparent diminution of their numbers.