Returning to the camp, we examined the toucan that had been the means of leading him astray. These birds are as a rule about the size of a pigeon; their huge yellow beak is almost as big as their entire body. It is, however, of a porous and cellular structure, and does not weigh much. Their plumage is brilliant and attractive, the back, tail, and wings being of a dark rich blue, while the breast is yellow. The toucan lives in hollow trees in the depths of the forest, and feeds on fruits and insects; as a rule, it lays only two or three eggs, which it often devours.
At about four o’clock I went out in search of some turtle eggs, and, after some half-hour’s trailing, found a large nest containing over a hundred. Tying them up in my shirt, I was returning to camp when I heard the report of the rifle, which seemed to come from that direction; hastening onward, I turned a bend and saw three men get out of a canoe and approach our abode, where they seemed to be cordially received by Perkins. Within a few minutes I joined them, and was overjoyed to see that they were a detachment of the Caraparaná police force of the Corregidor, Gabriel Martínez.
The officer in charge of the little band—Alférez Velasco—was very agreeable and courteous, and readily consented to lend a hand. So after dinner, which was a very pleasant affair, we removed all our effects from the canoe, collected our rollers, passed around the aguardiente, and in less than two hours our gallant craft was again afloat. The Alférez and his men then retired, completely exhausted by this task and the long day’s poling up the river, and Perkins and I commenced our heartbreaking labour of carrying our baggage, &c., over the half-kilometre that separated us from the canoe—for it had not been convenient to roll the heavy craft to the nearest part of the river on account of the sand-hummocks that intervened, and to have taken the canoe up to this place would have meant two hours’ hard work on account of the strong current and the long bend in the river.
It was truly a sickening task. We had had originally seven bultos, weighing about four arrobas each; now, in addition to this we had a barrel of aguardiente, our Indian souvenirs, Perkins’s mineralogical specimens, our danta, &c. To add to our disgust the river commenced to rise rapidly, and soon we perceived that, if we had not been in such a hurry, there would probably have been no necessity for carrying our things, as the river would have relieved us of this task. Sweat fell from us in streams, the rough edges of the bultos cut our shoulders mercilessly, and, to make matters worse, it began to rain in torrents. Still we stuck to it, and at about one o’clock in the morning Perkins staggered on board with the last load—the barrel of aguardiente—on his back. After lightening this part of our equipment by two good drinks each, we immediately retired and slept the sleep of the just.
The next morning it was as we had expected—the river had kept on rising, and the greater part of the playa was submerged. Making our way to the police detachment, we held a long chat with the officer, gave them a chunk of the smoked danta-meat, passed around the aguardiente, and thanking them heartily, took our departure. The swift current took us along rapidly, and soon the scene of our shipwreck faded away in the distance and became but a pleasant memory of the past.
Lunching in the canoe at about eleven o’clock, we steadily continued our descent. At about two I thought I would like to try my hand at being popero, so Perkins accordingly gave me a few hints on it and then retired under the pamacari to enjoy a short nap. I got along first-rate for an hour or so and was beginning to think myself almost the equal of a professional Indian boga, when, borne along at a tremendous rate by the rushing current, we ran into a log that stuck some six feet out of the water at an angle of about thirty degrees. The log was too high to strike the bow, and passed over it; it reached the pamacari, got caught fast in it, the canoe turned broadside, listed to port, water poured over the gunwale in torrents, and I commenced to say my prayers. The next moment the pamacari snapped, the canoe veered around bow foremost again, the log, with the released pamacari still attached to it, raked the rear part of our craft, knocked me overboard, and the canoe was free. I hastily grasped the end of the log and hung to it like a tick to a nigger’s shin, until Perkins struggled to his feet and threw me a rope, for no mortal man could have come up with the canoe in the teeth of the current. I grabbed the rope, and Perkins, after some delay, finally yanked me aboard, none the worse for my misadventure except a large bruise on my forehead. I did not play the rôle of popero again for some time.
At about five o’clock we stopped for the day at a large playa; I may say, however, that we spent some time in sounding the vicinity of the place where we tied the canoe, in order not to get stranded again. Taking a little walk to explore our neighbourhood, we stumbled upon several turtle trails, and, following them up, found some three large nests. Digging a little with our machetes at one of them, we unearthed about eighty eggs, which we conveyed to the canoe; some of these eggs we had for dinner in the shape of an omelette.
The next morning we again set out on our journey. As our danta was now getting spoiled, I kept an eagle eye on the trees along the bank in hopes of killing something, and shot at several monkeys, but with apparently no effect. Finally I perceived a large turkey, and as soon as we got within range drew a bead on him and fired. The bird fell to the ground, we drew up, I got out and found the dead body of a buzzard or gallinazo.
This repugnant bird, also known as the urubú in Brazil, is about the size of the wild turkey, which it somewhat resembles at a distance. Its plumage, however, is a sort of dingy black, and its fairly large beak is of the same colour. They always emit an insufferable, carrion smell, and are the universal scavengers of the tropics. Indeed, in Colombia the killing of a gallinazo is punishable by a heavy fine. Of these birds the best known species are the Cathartes fœtens, the C. aura, and the C. jata.
The white gallinazo is not so common, and is popularly supposed to be the king of the flock. While on the Cauca Railway I saw one feeding on a dead mule, while all the common urubús stood on one side, waiting until he had had enough. The Indians (as well as many of the “whites”) are very superstitious in regard to this bird, and consider its appearance as a good omen.