There are but two animals who do not fear the jaguar. The great ant-eater is defended from the monster’s attacks by its shaggy, thick coat. It will often grasp the jaguar in its powerful claws, and keep it in a close embrace, while these formidable weapons tear open its side—treating it as some chiefs in India were in the habit of treating their guests, whom they pretended to receive with an embrace of friendship, their hands armed with the steel-formed claws in imitation of those of tigers. Though the savage little peccaries, when caught singly, are quickly despatched by the jaguar, yet when meeting it collected in a herd, they so fiercely assault it with their sharp tusks, that it is either pierced to death, in spite of the blows of its claws, or compelled to take to flight.

It catches fish as it does the manatee, suddenly thrusting forth its talons as they pass below it; while it scrapes up the turtle’s eggs in numbers. It even pounces on birds and lizards, in spite of their activity and means of escape; and, when pressed by hunger, it will attack a native village, and carry off, not only fowls and other tame animals, but the children, and sometimes full-grown people, whom it may catch unawares.

Darwin says, that when the floods drive these animals to drier ground, they are most dangerous; and mentions many instances of people being destroyed by them. On the Parana they have been known to get on board vessels at night. He heard of a man who, coming up from below when it was dark, was seized on the deck by a jaguar. He escaped, however, with the loss of the use of an arm. At Santa Fé, two padres entering, one after the other, a church into which a jaguar had made its way, were both killed. A third, who came to see what was the matter, escaped with difficulty. The beast was destroyed by being shot at from a corner of the building which was unroofed.

The gauchos say, that when wandering at night, it is frequently followed by foxes yelping at its heels. If such is the case, it is a curious coincidence with the fact, generally affirmed, that jackals accompany the East Indian tiger.

The jaguar often leaves marks on the bark of trees, which it scrapes for the purpose of tearing off the rugged parts of its claws; a habit common also to the puma, as Darwin says he frequently found in Patagonia scores so deep on the hard soil, that no other animal could have made them.

Brett mentions several instances which came under his notice of human beings being killed by jaguars. A Carib Indian had gone into the forest to procure touari,—the inner bark of the sapucaya-nut tree, of the thin papery layers of which the Indians form the envelopes of their cigarettes. While employed in cutting off the long strips of the bark, on

turning round he discovered a jaguar stealthily approaching. His friends, as he did not return, set out in search of him. For a whole day they searched in vain; but on the second they discovered his foot-tracks, and those of a large jaguar. Following these for a long way in anxious suspense, they at length came to a spot where there were marks of a conflict, and they discovered their comrade’s bow lying broken on the ground. Still it was apparent that the Indian had beaten off his assailant, for the tracks of both led still further into the forest. At length they reached the scene of the last desperate struggle. On the ground lay the man’s knife, which he had lashed to the end of a stick; but it had been loosened and turned aside against the tough hide of the animal. From the marks on a tree it was evident that the poor fellow, in dire extremity, at the approach of night, had been trying to climb it, but ere he had ascended ten feet the jaguar had sprung after him, and pulling him down, had torn him to pieces. The remains, terribly mangled and half-devoured, lay near. One of the Caribs who had found the body described the sickness which came over him at the sight, and remarked that he had never since felt secure when traversing the forest with only his knife and bow and arrows. On the banks of the Pomaroon lived a Carib family, with a number of small children. The young ones had gone into the water to bathe, when they were startled by the cry of the smallest of their party—a little boy—whom they had left seated at the water’s edge. On looking round they beheld a huge jaguar which had been attracted by their noises of splashing, and which, having come behind the poor child, was standing with one paw on his shoulder. The elder children, screaming for help, attempted bravely to drive away the savage beast, but their efforts only resulted in it seizing the poor little fellow’s head with its powerful jaws. It was a moment of agony. Their father was absent, but another Carib who was near rushed to the spot, followed by the child’s mother and some other females. The beast, startled at this sudden increase in the number of its assailants, dropped its victim, whom the man immediately took up and gave to the mother. But assistance had come too late. The child gave his last struggle as his mother received him in her arms. When night set in, the disappointed beast came back to claim his prey, roaring and yelling through the hours of darkness around the open shed which formed their dwelling. Females alone were present, as the man had gone off to call the child’s father; and they had great difficulty, with firebrands and shouting, in keeping the brute off till help arrived.

Some time after this, another man, of considerable personal strength and cool courage, was one day in his field, with a little dog playing by his side, when he saw a jaguar at a distance watching his movements. The beast slunk away when observed, and as the Carib had no gun, he went on quietly with his work, clearing away the bush with his cutlass, which was a new and sharp one. The jaguar had, however, marked the dog for its prey, and only retreated to execute a flank march through the bush, and to come unperceived on his rear. Having effected this, it crept noiselessly forward, and sprang on the dog, which was instantly killed. The Carib rushed to the assistance of his favourite, compelling the savage jaguar to relinquish its hold, but the creature turned and sprang upon him. The man, however, anticipating the attack, dashed forward and decided the contest by a single blow, which buried his cutlass deep in the jaguar’s skull. The same man, on another occasion, clove the skull of a second jaguar with an axe with which he was about to fell some trees.

The jaguar, however, is capable of being tamed. The well-known Captain Inglefield possessed one, afterwards placed in the Zoological Gardens. It was so tame that he used to lie down and place his head on its body as on a pillow. It was allowed to roam at liberty about the ship. It was remarkable, however, that this creature could never be trusted when a young child or a dog was present. On such occasions it became greatly excited, endeavouring to break away from the chain with which it was secured when on shore. Probably in its native wilds both would have fallen victims to its natural ferocity.