It was a strange bed-chamber. The river, black beneath and around us, was silent enough; for the current hardly rippled against our boat, no wind moved the leaves, and only our own voices broke the stillness while we waited for sleep. Suddenly a sound between a shriek and a roar burst almost over our heads. “Tigre,” muttered Frank as he felt for his rifle. It was only a lion-bird; but its terrible cry was repeated until it seemed to awake all the nocturnal noises of the forests that stretched for fifty miles around us. Howling monkeys (Mycetes ursinus), a shrill water-bird, hooting owls, were all easily distinguished by our montero; and we slept more tranquilly after his explanation, even though we thought we felt the rough back of an alligator scrape the bottom of our boat. I have heard the real tiger’s howl in the Sumatran jungle; but it was not so terrible as this wretched bird, nor are the tropical nocturnal noises so loud and various in any other place where I have been.
So far the country through which we passed was worthless for agricultural purposes; but early the next morning we came to an elevated limestone ridge, and beyond this outwork the banks grew sensibly higher, until they were some twelve feet above the present high water. With the higher banks appeared the iguanas; and I made my first shot,—a large female,— which was picked up, while three others fell into the water and sank before we could reach them. It was some time before I learned to distinguish these reptiles; for they are nearly of the color of the branches on which they bask, and until they move, are to the unpractised eye only a part of the bewildering foliage. I did not like to be told where to look, so before the day was half gone I could see an iguana as soon as a native.
Female Iguanas.
A mouth like a toad’s, green, glittering eyes, a large pendulous dewlap, a row of lancet-shaped spines down the back, slender claws, and a long, pointed tail, certainly are not features to make the iguana an attractive pet; and yet it is gentle, easily tamed, and there are people who enjoy its company. Let not the Northern ladies shudder as they look on this picture; for do they not know, are there not among their number those who fondle and kiss(!) even the deformed pugs and lap-dogs? Unlike the worthless curs, the iguana is a most excellent food-animal; its delicate white meat is not unlike chicken, and the eggs—of which the female lays five or six dozen—are all yolk, and very delicious.[6] Being good swimmers, they drop from their perches over the river when alarmed, and after a fall sometimes of sixty to eighty feet the splash is suggestive of broken ribs, or at least a total loss of wind; but they scramble nimbly up the banks under the overhanging shrubs, and are lost in the forest. Like the chameleon, they change color, and from green of various hues become greenish gray when taken from the trees. We had much less difficulty than Columbus and his companions experienced in adding these “serpentes” to our cosmopolitan bill of fare.
In the afternoon a boom across the river showed the neighborhood of mahogany-cutters, and a short row above this brought us to the head of navigation for our large boat, and we made fast to a tree on the right bank, where there was no clearing nor any easy way to land, although we could see that the banks were some ten feet above the water, and steep. Leaving the “Progreso” in the cook’s charge, we continued up stream in the little cayuco until we broke a paddle and had to return,—not, however, until we had made two landings.
Once up the steep and slippery bank, we found the land level, and in the dense forest there was no undergrowth. It always seems odd to a stranger in the tropics,—this entire absence of sod; but so dense is the upper foliage that there is no chance for small plants below, except such as can, like the sarsaparilla, climb up into the light above, or orchids, like the vanilla, which cling to, if they do not draw a part of their sustenance from, the tree-stems. The cohune palm (Attalea cohune, Martius.) was abundant, and by its presence confirmed the testimony of the dark chocolate soil to the exceeding fertility of the land. This palm seems to have three names applied to as many stages of growth. When young and stemless, it is manàca; in middle age, when the bases of the old leaves still cling to the trunk, it is cohune; and when age removes these scales, the smooth stem is corozo. I have never seen the manàca in flower or fruit, but I believe the three are but one species. Other palms were intermingled with these,—some in blossom, some in fruit,—but none so common nor so large, both in stem and leaf. Later on we shall see a picture of the cohune and its very valuable fruit.
In one place along the bank I measured fourteen feet of soil of the best quality; nor was this surprising, since the valley through which the Rio Chocon flows is a catch-basin for the detritus of the limestone ranges of the Sarstun and Santa Cruz mountains, and its form guards against torrential floods which might wash away the rich deposit. When the summer rains flood the banks, as we found later, the water subsides in a few hours, owing to the wide-open lower course of the river.
Barbecue at Benito.