“Ou RK EARCH FOR A WILDERNESS MARY. BLAIR BEEBE & WILLIAM BE BBE CORNELL LAB of ORNITHOLOGY LIBRARY at Sapsucker Woods > Illustration of Bank Swallow by Louis Agassiz Fuertes wii DATE DUE BY C. WILLIAM BEEBE THE BIRD, ITS FORM AND FUNCTION With colored Frontispiece and 371 Illus- trations, chiefly photographed from Life by the Author. American Nature Series. New York: Henry Holt and Company. $vo. $3.50 net. THE LOG OF THE SUN A Chronicle of Nature’s Year. With fifty- two full-page illustrations by Walter King Stone, and numerous Vignettes and photo- graphs from Life. New York: Henry Holt and Company. $8vo., full gilt. $6.00 net. TWO BIRD-LOVERS IN MEXICO Illustrated with photographs from Life taken by the Author. Boston: Houghton Miffiin Company. 8vo. $3.00 net. (Frontispiece) IN THE SOUTH AMERICAN WILDERNESS. OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS AN ACCOUNT OF TWO ORNITHOLOGICAL EXPEDITIONS TO VENEZUELA AND TO ERITISH GUIANA BY MARY BLAIR BEEBE AND C. WILLIAM BEEBE Curator of Ornithology in the New York Zodlogical Park ; Fellow of the New York Academy of Sciences; Member of the American Ornithologists’ Union and Correspond- ing Member of the London Zoological Society ILLUSTRATED WITH PHOTOGRAPHS FROM LIFE TAKEN BY THE AUTHORS LONDON CONSTABLE & COMPANY Ltp. IQIO COPVRIGHT, 1910, BY HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY Published April, 1910 To Jupce anp Mrs. ROGER A. PRYOR With the deepest affection and admiration of their Granddaughter MARY BLAIR BEEBE and of C. WILLIAM BEEBE PREFACE. In the following pages we have set down the tale of two searches for a wilderness. These two private expeditions were undertaken for the purpose of learning something about the birds and other wild creatures of countries further south than any we had yet visited. Both trips were successful; for the regions we explored were wilderness wonderlands, — full of beauty, abounding in the romance which ever en- hances wild creatures and wild men, and they were part of the great zodlogical “‘ dark continent ’’ which we hope to devote our lives to studying. On our first search the collecting of live birds was inci- dental, although we brought back forty specimens of fourteen species. On the second search, however, we took with us an assistant, Mr. Lee S. Crandall. By his assiduity in trapping and in arousing the interest of native coolie and black boys, he assembled a splendid collection of almost three hundred living birds of fifty-one species. These we brought to the New York Zoological Park, where no less than thirty-three species were new to the collection. In addition many small mammals and reptiles were collected. Part I. We left New York on February 22d, 1908, on the Royal Mail Steamship ‘“‘ Trent,”’ and after touching at Jamaica, Colon, Savanilla and La Guayra, we disembarked at Port of Spain, Trinidad, on March gth. Leaving this port in a Venezuelan sloop we cruised among the cafios north of the 1x x PREFACE. Orinoco Delta, and explored the country about the Vene- zuelan Pitch Lake — La Brea. To Mr. Eugene André of Trinidad, we are deeply in- debted for a hundred kindnesses which did much to make our trip a success. We wish also to express gratitude to Mr. Mole, Mr. Anduse and especially to the late Mr. Ellis Grell. Part II. On the 15th of February, 1909, we sailed from New York on the Steamship ‘‘ Coppename ”’ of the Royal Dutch West Indian Mail, and with only a single stop — Barbadoes — reached Georgetown, British Guiana, on the 24th of the same month. In British Guiana we made three expeditions; two as the guests of Mr. and Mrs. Gaylord Wilshire, having as our objective points two gold mines in the midst of the wilderness, the first at Hoorie in the northwest, the second on the Little Aremu in central Guiana. On these expeditions we were spared all the usual annoyances of transportation; food and servants and everything at the mines were put at our service to facilitate our study of the nature life of the country. The third trip to the savanna region further south was made at the invitation of Mr. and Mrs. Lindley Vinton, two Americans living in Georgetown, who placed their home at our disposal while we remained in Georgetown. During our entire stay in British Guiana we received unfailing courtesy and kindness, — from the Governor, Sir Frederick Hodgson, down to the great black hospitable wilderness police. Professor J. B. Harrison allowed us to use the old aviaries at the Botanical Gardens, and with Mr. James Rodway of the Georgetown Museum and Mr. B. Howell Jones, extended to us all the courtesies in his power. PREFACE. xi For figures 97, 98, 108, 144, and 158 we are indebted to Dr. Hiram Bingham, and figures 83, og, 130, and 131 are from photographs belonging to the New York Zodlogical Society and were taken by Mr. E. R. Sanborn. All the others were taken by ourselves with a Graflex Camera and 27-inch Goerz lens, and a pocket Kodak, both 4 by 5 in size. The first two chapters appeared in their original form in “ Harper’s Monthly Magazine,” and the third chapter in “* Recreation.” Our thanks are due to Dr. William T. Hornaday, Direc- tor of the New York Zoological Park, for the leave of absence which made possible these expeditions. Three appendices have been added. The first is a classified list of the birds, with their scientific names, which are mentioned in the book; by no means a complete list of those observed. Reference to it is facilitated by the superior numbers affixed throughout the text to the names of the birds. The second appendix gives the native Guianan names of the commoner species of birds. The third is a list of the insects observed at Hoorie which have been identified up to the present time. Wherever in this volume it has seemed best for any reason that certain chapters should be written by one of the authors alone, the writer’s name has been given at the head of the chapter. In all chapters not thus designated the authors have collaborated. MARY BLAIR BEEBE, C. WILLIAM BEEBE. January, I9I0. w CONTENTS. PART I. OUR FIRST SEARCH. VENEZUELA. PAGE THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE. ...o0 ev cces canescens 3 THE LAKE OF PITCH. ae eecnerage 32 A WOMAN'S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA.. Ti PART II. OUR SECOND SEARCH. BRITISH GUIANA. GEORGETOWN. ast oye: ITE STEAMER AND LAUNCH TO HOORIE CREEK. 134 A GOLD MINE IN THE WILDERNESG.......... 165 THROUGH THE COASTAL WILDERNESS WITH INDIANS AND CANOE.......... 214 THE WATER TRAIL FROM GEORGETOWN TO AREMU . sae Sets trys vane ene ee oe ee JUNGLE LIFE AT AREMU . Ria tte VM Mtiae ato 8 JUNGLE LIFE AT AREMU (Continned), or aecrnienannivess 316 THE LIFE OF THE ABARY SAVANNAGS........... 350 APPENDICES. CLASSIFIED LIST OF BIRDS MENTIONED IN THIS VOLUME. oe Seas eeee BBO NATIVE GUIANAN NAMES OF “BIRDS. tee ee ALPHABETICAL LISTS OF BIRDS................. 397 TN DSc bacaaea aa eee RG eee Skee wees Pe eed wR 399 FIG. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE In the South American Wilderness. Frrontis piece 1. Map of our Trip through the Mangrove Wilderness ........... 2 2. Our Sloop entering the Mangroves..............0. 0000s eee 5 3.) Scarlet: Ibisesiny: Right nay a soon Sake oA eee eee SAS 7 4. Young: Mangrove: Plamts..24 as uaccanecdwaneaawieaeeeseniaanues CEL iS: -bhe Crucis inthe Gathsh 0 <0i saltewater Mlying: Mishoo) aveepad se dod Gi seeewesndeae een Cuyuni River . . A Herd of Biokt Capy bares: Six Adult and Two Young... . Great Anteater. alaiehs stench . A Tacuba on ihe Gagan . Rapids on the Cuyuni.. whcgiase se . Rushing the Boat into fis opis fe Bah Eo aad ay . Warping the Boat Through the Lower Whtulpapts:. Eo cing iret rie . A Rest midway up the Rapids .............. 00-0... ccc eee . The Final Struggle up to Smooth Water... ..............000. XVil b Nob as oO bo 4 on OG oN wn ee b oN ON mn + bo N YH NY NN 2 NA A NH b 266 Xviil LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. . The Same. Side View. . Second Phase of Gnecer Steultine Shooting the Rapids at Full Speed. .......-.-. 0502s eee eee A Wilderness Passion Flower — Simitt..... 2.56.0 0252005 Our Camp on the Aremu River. es Poling under Tacubas on the Little Ageiath: . “Preeterns on the Littl Areitics es oi scup cee ves seen aeweea nia A Sloth 1 AGO oa Gch ek oe ee Pee eee Be aed eee eR wee 2. oA SlOtHCASICE DY, 2.4) sno Where only Otters and Tele can pass. Aremu Gold Mine, showing Bungalow and Mike Shaft, Reeth Descending the Shaft..-...... Walking Stick Insect. ........ Scorpion and Caterpillar after their » Battle Hoag) Serpent Milady-andlithe: Giant Mora: Umee st ceo Sp Se din remeee ata A€nal Roots-of Bush=rOpes.a sia. sacneacenele db obtener dobsbepogead hed e Maman dwaass..:4.s4,44 a0 eaenaes » Agoutinses ce onass errr Nest and Eggs oe W ites choked Rabin. a brtaent era gules Aelate Section of Paddle-wood Tres cic.0c.5scncaae vs saccn seta es eran . Phonetic Caterpillars. ........ First Phase of Curassow Siutlings a | Slow ‘Walk with Ralad Tail. Rear View. Third Phase of Curassow Strutting ...... Golden-crowned Manakin lifted from Nest nid Beep aawroreeeee . Young Dusky Parrots........ . Early Morning in the Willernbee. juny nas fads ecanstan asters Giana . Indian Hunter bringing ina Peceary.. 202 :acea. eid eels 3. American Egret on the Abary River Savanna... ............. . Nest and Young of Jabiru.. Gray-necked Tree-ducks rising miesee is Saas anna. Our Bungalow on Abary Island ....0..45 25 6:0232¢00800 000% . Map of Abary Island. empseehste a Abary River, showing Heh Growth on We est EBonle.. cdabatshshetinai Spider Lily near Abary Island. . . Nest of a Hoatzin in the Wiuces: ats on err: tess Birds feed . ; “The Author Phoioraiiine. Sosicines : ee Re en ere (A) Female Hoatzin flushed from her nest; “the Male Bird approaching........ (B) Female Hoatzin in the same ‘Position, ‘the Male g flown nearer. (C) Male Hoatzin sland: smut. abort to ‘bale Flight ae sts (D) Female Hoatzin crouching to avoid Observation. .. WwW WwW aS WW HW WwW FIG. 150. 167: 158. 159. 160. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. (E) Female Hoatzin taking flight, with wings fully spread; < second pair of birds leaving their nest in the back-ground . . Flock of Eleven Hoatzins..... Crocodiles on a South American River Bank..... Lagoon between Abary Island and River. .................-. Young Spur-winged. Jacanainccccs0 craecass gage ress eae PART I OUR FIRST SEARCH VENEZUELA a a ‘I ol XXXX JLNOY YNO ONIMOHS J & VIINZINIA NYIISWIHLYON JO dv ea é oe de a pa +) 4 \ INS XIE sO wuivals LF OxnovW OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS CHAPTER I. THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE. NE day late in March, just as the tropical sun was sinking from view, our barefooted Spanish crew pulled up anchor from the muddy bottom of Port of Spain’s har- bor. Slowly the sails filled, and the spray began to fly from the bow as we steered straight into the crimson path of the sunset. Behind us the lofty Trinidad ranges glowed softly; great velvety peaks and ridges, purpled by distance, gilded by the last rays of day. Then the twilight passed swiftly .as if the sun had been quenched by the waters which cov- ered its face; the mountains became merged into the dark- ness of the sky, and the city of busy life behind us melted into a linear constellation of twinkling lights. We had chartered a little sloop of twenty-one tons, the “Josefa Jacinta” (Ho-say/fah Hah-seen’tah), manned by a captain, a cook and a crew of three. At her masthead flew the flag of Venezuela. With a month’s provisions in the hold and all the varied paraphernalia of a naturalist, we were headed for the northern part of the Orinoco delta in search of the primitive wilderness of which we had dreamed. Jamaica, Colon, Savanilla, La Guayra had passed in quick succession, and we were surprised to find Trinidad the most modern and wide-awake of all. The well-appointed hotels, 3 4 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. the trolleys, electric lights, museums, and newspapers of Port of Spain, the wireless station even now flashing its aérial messages from yonder peak, — all boded ill for our search for primeval conditions. Was there no spot left on earth, we wondered, which could truthfully be called an untrodden wilderness!— jungles untouched by axe or fire, where guns had not replaced bows and arrows; where the creatures of the wilderness were tame through unfamiliarity with human beings! The Southern Cross rose and straightened its arms; the Pole Star hung low in the north. As the night wore on, an ugly sea arose and half buried our little craft in foam and spray. A cross-wind disputed our advance and the strong tide drove us out of our course. But our captain had navi- gated these waters for more than half a century, and we had no fears. The following day was as wild as the night, and no living thing appeared in sky or sea, save a host of milky jelly-fish (Stomolophus meleagris). ‘They kept below the surface, and seemed to suffer no damage from the roughness of the water. In an area of a square yard we counted twenty, and for hour after hour we passed through vast masses of them, extending to the farthest waves visible on either hand and as deep down as our eyes could penetrate — myriads upon myriads of these lowly beings, each vibrating with life, and yet un- able to guide its course against the tide, or to do aught but pulsate slowly along. Later in the day, although the water grew less rough, the whole company sank lower in the muddy depths — muddy, because the brown waters of the great Orinoco hold sway over all this gulf and scatter out at sea the sediment washed from the banks far inland. Finally the storm passed and we saw a blue cloud to the THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE. 5 north, hinting of the great mountain ranges of the Spanish Main. Ahead, a low green mist along the horizon told us we were nearing shore. This became more and more dis- tinct until we could make out individual trees. By noon we had left the tumultuous waters of the Gulf of Paria, and were floating quietly on a broad stream between two majestic walls of green; we had entered our wilderness, and the silence Fic. 2. OuR SLOOP ENTERING THE MANGROVES. and beauty of our reception seemed all the more vivid after the noise and turbulence of the wind and water behind us. Our first impression was of a vast solitude. It was mid- day, and the tide was almost at its height. With limp sails we drifted silently onward, not a sound of life coming from the green depths about us. We skirted the mangroves along the south bank, moving more and more slowly, until at last we rested motionless on the water, between the blazing 6 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. sky overhead and the muddy depths beneath. The tide had reached its highest, and, like the living creatures of the jungle, rested in the midday heat. The captain gave a gruff order in Spanish, and the anchor splashed into the water, dragging the chain after with a sudden roar and jangle which echoed from shore to shore — jarring the silence as would a shriek of pain in a cathedral. A chatter came from the mangroves near at hand, and high up among the dense foliage we saw the first life of the continent — a wistful little human face gazing out at us, a capuchin monkey striving with wrinkled brows to make out what we were. At his call two others came and looked; then, as our sail came down with a rattle of halyards, the trio fled through the branches with all the speed which four hands and a tail could lend. We spent the afternoon in getting our floating home ready for use. No more waves would be encountered, so every- thing was unlashed. Stereo-glasses, camera-plates, and am- munition were placed ready to hand; the galley stove was moved far forward, and a mosquito-proof tent of netting was erected under the tarpaulin in the stern. The sun had sunk low in the west when we saw a long, narrow dug-out canoe coming downstream. An Indian woman and her baby were crouched in the bow, while in the stern a naked Indian paddled swiftly and silently. His skin shone like coppery bronze in the sunlight, his long black hair was bound back from his face by a thong of hide. In front of him rested a bow and arrows and a long fish-spear. Silently he approached and in silence he passed — unheeding our salutations. One more beauty of this wild wonderland was vouchsafed us before night fell. We had been disappointed in the birds. Where were the myriads of water-fowl of which we had heard? We had seen nothing — not a single feather. But TREE, SLE THE LAND OF A SINC “IHOITY NI SASIG[ LATAVOS ‘cold 8 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. now the scene slowly changed. The tide was falling rapidly, swirling and eddying past the boat, and the roots of the mangroves began to protrude, their long stems shining black until the water dried from them. Mud-flats appeared, and suddenly, without warning, a living flame passed us — and we had seen our first Scarlet Ibis’’.* Past the dark green background of mangrove foliage the magnificent bird flew swiftly — flaming with a brilliance which shamed any pigment of human art. Blood red, intensest vermilion, deepest scarlet — all fail to hint of the living color of the bird. Before we could recover from our delight a flock of twenty followed, flying close together, with bills and feet scarlet like the plumage. They swerved from their path and alighted on the mud close to the mangroves, and began feeding at once. Then a trio of snowy-white Egrets” with trailing plumes floated overhead; others appeared above the tops of the trees; a host of tiny Sandpipers skimmed the surface of the water and scurried over the flats. Great Cocoi Herons *' swept majestically into view; Curlews and Plover * assembled in myriads, lining the mud-flats at the water’s edge, while here and there, like jets of flame against the mud, walked the vermilion Ibises. Terns“ with great yellow bills flew about the sloop, and Skimmers ploughed the surface of the tide in endless furrows. Macaws™ began to pass, shrieking as they flew, two and two together — and then night closed quickly over all. From the zenith the sun had looked down upon a stream as quiet as death; it sank upon a scene full of the animation of a myriad forms of life. As dusk settled down and hid the shore from our eyes, another sense was aroused, and to our ears came the sounds of night in these tropical jungles — a thousand cries, moans, * The superior figures following the names of birds throughout the volume refer to a list of their scientific names given for identification in Appendix A. THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE. 9 crashes; all mysterious — unexplainable. In time we became so accustomed to them that we could distinguish repetitions and details, but this first night brought only a confused chorus of delightful mystery, now broken by a moment of silence, now rising to an awe-inspiring climax. One sound only remained clear in our memory, often repeated, now uttered in lower, now in higher tones — a terrible choking sigh. It might have been the last death gasp of some great monkey, or the pitiful utterance of hopelessness of a madman. With the turn of the tide we raised anchor and drifted through the night — mile after mile for six hours, and then anchored again. And thus it was that we came to our wilderness. Not until we had been in the mangrove jungle for many days did we begin to realize its vastness, its mystery, its primeval character. Just four hundred and ten years ago Christopher Columbus sailed through the gulf we had left and gazed on the dark forest in the heart of which we now were. Throughout the whole extent of the mangrove wilderness we found no hint that conditions were not as they were in 1498. One of the most astonishing things about the mangrove forest is the apparent diversity of its plant life. Until one actually comes within reach of trunk and leaves it is impos- sible to believe that all this forest is composed of a single species of plant. The foliage of some of the trees is light, of others dark; here stands a clump of pale beechlike trunks, there a dark, rough-barked individual is seen. The manner of growth of the young and old trees is so different that a confusion of mingled trees, shrubs, and vines seems to con- front one. But everywhere the mangrove reigns supreme. It is the only vegetable growth which can gain a footing in 10 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. this world of salt water. In fact, it makes its own footing, entangling and holding mud and débris about its stems, and ever blindly reaching out dangling roots, like the legs of gigantic spiders. Far out on the tip of a lofty branch a mangrove seed will germinate, before it falls assuming the appearance of a loaded club from eight to fifteen inches in length. One day it lets go and drops like a plummet into the soft mud, where it sticks upright. Soon the tide rises, and if there is too strong a current the young plant is swept away, to perish far out at sea; but if it can maintain its hold, roots soon spring out, and the ideal of the mangrove is realized, the purpose for which all this interesting phenomena is intended: the forest has gained a few yards, and mud and leaves will soon choke out the intervening water. The mangroves have still another method of gaining new territory. Aérial roots are thrown out from branches high in air, swinging downward and outward with a curve which sometimes wins three or four yards ahead. Like hawsers thrown from a vessel to a wharf these roots clutch at the mud beneath, but where the current runs swiftly they swing and dangle in vain, until they have grown so heavy that they touch bottom some distance downstream. We made use of these dangling roots as anchors for our canoe, bending the elastic unattached end upward and springing it over the gunwale. Throughout all this great region there is not a foot of solid ground. In one place we pushed a tall shoot some eight feet in height straight down through the mud, and it went out of sight. A man falling on this mud, out of reach of aid, would vanish as in a quick-sand. So the wild creatures of the Mangroves must either swim, fly, or climb. No terrestrial beings can exist there. We once selected a favorable place, and for fifty yards made our way over the roots and branches II THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE. ‘SINVIG AAOVONV]Y ONAOX ‘P ‘OLT 12 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. before exhaustion and an impassable gap of mud and water stopped all progress. As never before we realized how safe from man are the denizens of these strange swamps. Mon- keys fled swiftly before us, birds rose and flew overhead, while we painfully crept and pulled ourselves along over the slippery stems. More wonderful even than the coral polyps are these man- groves, for by this plant alone all this region has been rescued from the sea and built up into land. In future years, as the mud banks become higher and are fertilized by the ever- falling leaves, other growths will appear, and finally the coast of the continent will be thus extended by many scores of miles of fertile soil. A network of narrow channels stretches through this wilderness and allowed us to explore the far interior in our shallow curiara or dug-out. Thus we spent days and weeks in search of the creatures which lived in this land of a single tree, and here we learned how delightful the climate of such a region can be. Every night we slept under blankets, and during the day the temperature ranged from 66° at five and six o’clock in the morning to about 86° at noon, although we were within nine degrees of the equator.* One could paddle all day with more comfort than on a hot summer day in the north. By day mosquitoes were generally absent, and only a * Actual temperatures (Fahrenheit) taken in the mangrove forest on board the sloop are as follows: March 30th — April 1st — 5.30 A.M. 66° 6.00 A.M. 73° 9.30 86° 10.00 80° 11.30 86° 2.00 PM. 85° 1.30 P.M. 86° 6.00 80° 7.00 78° March 31st — April 2nd — ° 5-30 A.M. 71 5-30 A.M. 69° a Cn i THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE, 13 few biting flies reminded us of the “terrible insect scourges”’ of the tropics. Life was delightfully new and strange, with the spice of danger ever attendant upon the exploration of unknown lands. Fic. 5. THE CRUCIFIX IN THE CATFISH. The fishes attracted our attention from the first. When we came on deck before sunrise for a plunge, our little vessel would be surrounded by hosts of catfish (Pseudaucheni plerus nodosus) all, like our sloop, headed upstream against the tide. They would bite indifferently at bait, a bit of cloth, or a bare hook, and were delicious eating. On the bottom our hooks would sometimes be taken by great fierce-whiskered cats, 14 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. bedecked with long streamers, which gave no end of trouble before they were quieted. They were pale yellow, and the head and back were encased in bone; Maestro —the cook — called them the crucifix fish, and later showed us why. On the under surface of the bony armor is a large cross with a halo about it just above the arms. The crew never caught one of these fish without making the sign of the cross in, their right palm. When the tide was half down the funniest of puff-fishes (Calomesus psitiacus), or tambourines as the Captain called them, would take our bait. They were from three to five inches long, white below, and pale greenish above crossed by seven black bands, the first across the mouth and the seventh at the tip of the caudal fin. There was also a black patch at the base of the pectoral fins. The iris was bright lemon yellow. When gently scratched on the lower parts, or sometimes even when just lifted from the water they would swell up into a round ball. They were covered with short, stiff bristles which stood on end when the fish was in- flated, and their comical appearance was increased by the four rodent-like incisor teeth in the front of the mouth. When thus inflated with air they were helpless for a time, and if thrown back, floated belly upward at the mercy of the wind and current, until they were able to collapse to normal size. On one of our first excursions among the mangroves in our small canoe we made a most interesting discovery. Here and there, sprawled out on the mud-flats, were small croc- odiles, and occasionally a large one would rush off into the water at our approach. Hugging the edge of the tide where the ripples lapped back and forth on the black ooze were many other living creatures. For a long time we could not make them out, but finally, drifting silently upon a whole school, we knew them for four-eyed fish (Anableps anableps) — strange creatures which we had hoped to sce. THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE. 15 We came to a tiny bayou, shaped like a bottle, from which four Little Blue Herons ™ flew as we approached. We placed our dug-out corklike athwart the mouth and anchored with our crossed paddles. The air was warm, bees hummed about the tiny four-parted flowers of the mangroves, and a great blue morpho butterfly flapped past, mirrored in the water beneath. Then came tragedy — never far off in this land of superabundant life. A small clay-colored crocodile Fic. 6. Parrot Purr-FrisH. made a sudden rush at a ripple, and a quartet of four-eyes shot from the water in frantic fear. One was slower than the rest, and the fierce jaws of the diminutive reptile just grazed him. Another fell back downward in the ooze, and in a twinkling was caught and dragged into the depths. No wonder the poor little four-eyes are ever on the lookout for danger and spend most of their time where they merge with the ripples along the shore, when such enemies are on the watch for them! 16 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. A whir of wings sounded, and a Kingfisher ® alighted within arm’s reach. But such a Kingfisher! — the veriest mite, clad in a robe of brilliant emerald and orange. So small was he that it seemed as if the tiniest of minnows must choke him. He seemed to be of the same opinion, for while we watched him he caught only the insects which passed him in mid-air or which were floating on the water. By far the most numerous, and in their way the most interesting of the mangroves’ inhabitants, were the crabs. Fic. 7. Four-Evep Fisu, There were untold millions of them, all small, all active and keen of vision. If we sat quietly, they would appear from everywhere, peeping out like little gnomes from their perches on the mangroves, forever playing their noiseless little fiddles. These tiny tree-folk not only played, but danced. Let us picture a scene constantly enacted, so close to us that we could all but touch the performers. Two crabs approach each other, now fiddling vigorously, now waving their diminu- tive pincers back and forth over their heads as a ballet- dancer waves her arms. They move never in straight lines, but sideways, now running back a few steps, now forward, THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE. 17 until at last they meet, and each grasping the other’s claws, raises them aloft, and then for five minutes they circle about in most ludicrous imitation of a waltz. All this usually takes place on the Jower surface of a mangrove trunk, the inverted position apparently making no less secure the footing of the little dancers. We could not decide whether this perform- ance was in the nature of courtship or just pure play. What we did discover concerning the lives of these crabs was full of interest. Hundreds of the smallest-sized ones lived in holes in the mud, and when the tide went down they came out and ran about — intent on some all-important busi- ness of their little existence. Another class of larger individ- uals had their holes near the roots of the mangroves, one (rarely two) good-sized crab apparently taking possession of each root. Here he disported himself, running up and down, from the water into the air with no change in speed, and here, strangest of all, he grew to resemble his home root. There was as great diversity among the roots as among the larger trunks — whitish, black, mottled, and all intervening shades. It was a fact, of which we had hundreds of daily proofs, that the crabs were so like their particular root that often we could not detect the quiescent crustacean when within a foot of our faces. There was one group of five black roots forming a rough circle about a single mottled root. As we approached, a crab ran down each stalk into the water, and as we peered down and saw them go into their holes, we could at a glance tell the mottled crab from the five black ones. Even the roots which were as yet a foot or more above the bottom mud each had their occupant, which thus had to swim upward from his hole before he could grasp his swaying perch. A third class of crabs lived among the higher trunks and branches of the mangroves, and, except where there was a highroad of some large trunk dipping into the water, these 18 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. less fortunate fellows had to scamper in frantic haste up the roots of their larger brethren. The indignant owner would rush at the trespasser with uplifted pincers, sometimes forc- ing him to leap for his life. Where an unusually large tree was frequented by many crabs, their carapaces bore a close Fic. 8. Our Froatinc Home at LA Cerra. resemblance to its pattern and hue, but among these more aérial and roving crabs the mimicry was, on the whole, less striking than among the sedentary class. In the latter, pro- tective coloration was carried to a greater degree of perfec- tion than I have ever seen it elsewhere. These were loath to leave their roots and swim, preferring to run swiftly down until they reached the mud. This habit made it easy to catch them, THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE. 19 merely by taking the end of the root aboard and shaking it, when the unsuspecting crab would rush down in all haste into a pail or jar held at the bottom. They have many enemies, not only among fish, reptiles, and birds, but even some of the mammals, such as opossums and monkeys, catch and devour them in large numbers. We saw a beautiful Hawk,” bright chestnut in color, with a pale creamy head and black throat, dashing at them and skil- fully catching the unfortunate crabs in one outstretched foot. Scores of other beings of still more lowly degree swarmed about us, but as the tide lapped out of our little bayou, the four-eyes again attracted our attention. They began to get restless, swimming back and forth and shuffling over the mud, until at last in desperation at the ebbing of their element, they made a dash to get past us into the open water of the cafio. Some dived, but so buoyant are they that they can scarcely stay below a second, and soon popped up on the surface again. Others scrambled, rolled, and squirmed along over the ooze on each side of us, many making good progress and escaping. We caught several and placed them in an aquarium for study. When hard pressed in deep water these curious fish progress by a series of leaps — up on their tail end and down again, up and down again, describing a series of curves and making very fast time. When examined closely we see that these fish have only two eyes, but these are divided in such a way that there appear to be double that number. There are two distinct pupils, one elevated above the head like the eyes of a frog, the other separated by a band of tissue and below the water-line. So when the fish floats in its normal position at the surface the upper pupils, fitted for vision in the air, watch for danger above, while the lower pair keeps a submarine lookout for insect food and aquatic enemies. 20 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. Monkeys are perfectly at home in this land of branches, the ever-cautious capuchins and now and then a long-limbed spider monkey swinging through the trees with as easy a motion as the flight of a bird. Biggest of all are the great red howlers, who keep to the deeper, more narrow channels, and in the evening and again at dawn send their voices to the farthest limits of the mangroves. They do not howl, they roar, and the sound is perfectly suited to such a wilderness as this. Before the first signs of day light up the east, a low, soft moaning comes through the forest, like the forewarning yf a storm through pine trees. This gains in volume and depth until it becomes a roar. It is no wind now, nor like anything one ever hears in the north; it is a deep, grating, rumbling roar — a voice of the tropics; a hint of the long-past ages when speech was yet unformed. We grew to love the rhythm of this wild music, and it will always be for us the memory-awakening sound of the tropical wilderness. The wealth of life in this region was evident when we began to explore a river flowing down from the highlands in the far-distant interior of Venezuela. One could spend a year here and not begin to exhaust the wonders on every hand. With every high tide the Captain would pull up anchor and shift our craft a little upstream, until at last our keel touched bottom and we could go no farther. We anchored firmly and buoyed ourselves by ropes to the nearest trees so as to keep on an even keel. This, our home for a time, was in a little bight of the Guarapiche (War-ah-pee’chy) River, where two tumbled-down, long deserted Indian huts still retained the name of La Ceiba. We were so close to the left bank that at low tide we could walk ashore on oars laid down over the mud. Here the birds came and fed and bathed, here the howling monkeys roared over our very heads and Macaws swung and shrieked at us. THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE. 21 Fic. 9. ExpLorINc THE CANos In A Duc-ovr. 22 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. One night, during a heavy downpour of rain, we were sud- denly awakened by a medley of cries, imprecations, shrieks and yells. Flashing the strong electric bulb we saw through the sheets of rain a very large curiara run afoul of our shore line; piled high with luggage, with several screaming women perched high on the bundles and boxes. Four pigs, tied feet upward, swelled the chorus in their fear of a watery grave and four men told us what they thought of us in the present and where they hoped we would spend the future centuries until the world’s end. Our Captain was out of his hammock in a moment and in tremendous basso profundo he silenced all, save the pigs, and rapidly gave directions to our crew to row upstream against the swirling current, clear the curiara and shift it outside the danger zone. Between breaths, he inci- dentally described minutely to the terrified natives what he knew would be the ultimate fate of such fools as tried to descend a river on the wrong side. It was a miracle that the whole outfit did not overturn — a narrow dug-out, measur- ing about twenty feet in length by two in width, striking full force against a rope in the blackness of the storm. Early in the morning the roaring of the monkeys would awaken us, and after a hasty breakfast we would start out in our little boat. At this time everything is dripping and fresh with dew, and there is a bite and tang in the air which reminds us of Canadian dawns. It is still dusk, and the lines of mangroves on either side show only as black walls. For some minutes hardly a sound breaks the stillness except the distant roars and the drip, drip of our paddles. Then a sudden splashing and breaking of branches shows that we are discovered by a pair or more of capybaras (H ydrochoerus capybara), those enormous rodents which would pass as guinea pigs in Gulliver’s land of giants. Now an overhang- ing branch drenches us as we brush against it, and as it is pushed aside a whole armful of orchids comes away, the THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE. 23 pure white blossoms (Epidendrum fragrans) filling the caho with their sweetness. Now the delicate foliage of a palm is silhouetted for a moment against the brightening eastern sky, and a mass of great convolvulous blossoms shines out from the shore. By this we know that we are not many miles from dry ground, and other growths are already beginning to dispute the dominance of the mangroves. Fic. 10. WHITE ORCHIDS. Silence again, to be broken by one of the most remarkable and startling outbursts of sound which any living creature in the world can utter. A series of unconnected sighs, shrieks, screams, and metallic trumpet-like notes suddenly breaking forth apparently within thirty feet, is surely excuse enough for being startled. The hubbub ceases as abruptly as it began; then again it breaks out, now seeming to come from all directions, even from overhead. The author of all 24 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. this is the Chachalaca’— a bird not larger than a common fowl, but with a longer tail. It spends most of its time on the ground or among the lower branches of the trees in the swamps. It was seldom that we caught sight of one, but we shall never forget the first time we heard their diabolical chorus. The sun’s rays now light up the narrow path of water ahead of us, and a thousand creatures seem to awaken and give voice at once. Two splendid Yellow and Blue Macaws” fly high overhead, their screams softened by the distance; a flock of great white-billed, Red-crested Woodpeckers® drum and call; from the bank comes the rolling cry of the Tina- mou and the sweet, penetrating double note of the Sun- bittern™; Hummingbirds squeak in their flight as they shake the dew-drops from the orchids above us; squirrels with fur of orange and gray scramble through the branches, fleeing before the little capuchin monkeys. Then, one after another, three splendid Swallow-tailed Kites* dash past us at full speed, brushing the surface of the water and floating upward again. Swallows,‘ emerald and white, catch the flies which hover near us; a big yellow-breasted Flycatcher alights for a moment on the bow of our boat — and a tropical day is fairly begun. These and a hundred other creatures about us bathe, sing, and seek their food during the fresh hours of early morning. Then, as the sun rises higher and its heat draws a hush over all, the notes of the birds die away, leaving the insect vocalists supreme. Butterflies click here and there, a loud humming tells of huge wasps winging their way on murderous missions, but above all rises the chant of the cicadas. The commonest of these grinds out harsh, reverberating tones — whir-r-r-r-r-r! wh-r-r! wh-r-r! wh-r-r! wh-r-r! rolling the r’s in the first utterance for a minute or more, then ending in a series of short, abrupt whirs. THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE, 25 Then another cicada, a giant species, sends his call through the jungle; he has two strings to his bow, one a half-note higher than the other, and on these he plays for five minutes at a time. It is Chinese music to the very tone. Some- times his tune ends in a rising shriek, and we know that one of the big blue wasps has descended on him and stabbed him in the midst of his love-song. Fic. 11. SUN-BITTERN. The day wears on, and even the cicadas become quiet. The sun is overhead and the air full of tropical heat. In the shade it is always comfortable, and in the full glare of the sun one perspires so freely that the heat is hardly felt. As we paddle lazily along, a great Tegu Lizard (Teius nigropunctatas) scrambles slowly along the bank; now crawl- ing overt a muddy expanse, now taking to the water to avoid a 26 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. bushy tangle, folding back his legs and swimming with long graceful sweeps of his tail. As we watch him he leaps at several little crabs and catches them before they can escape into their holes. We eat our luncheon in the shade of a clay bank, the first hint of dry land we have seen along the cafio, and here we watch the little crocodiles basking in the sun and the crabs scuttling over the mud. A bird of iridescent green and orange swoops down to our very faces, and hangs swinging in a loop of a tiny liana on the face of the bank. The next instant it vanishes into the earth, darting into a hole hardly larger than the crab-holes around it. We have found the home of a Jacamar.** At the end of the short tunnel are four round white eggs laid on the bare clay. While examining the nest we hear at our very feet the terrible night noise — the muffled choking sigh which has come to us every night since we entered the mangrove wilder- ness. We are standing in our narrow dug-out, which the least movement will overturn, and for an instant it is indeed a question whether we can control ourselves enough to keep it from filling. Now the mystery solves itself as a large anaconda (Hunectes murinus) nine or ten feet long, slowly winds out from a hole in the bank beneath the surface of the water and slips into the depths of the muddy current. Then the tide laps a little lower, and a big bubble of air, caught in the entrance of the serpent’s lair, frees itself with a sudden gasping sob. When the tide is rising or falling over these large openings in the mud, the air escapes from time to time with the terrifying sound which has so long puzzled us. Our mysterious nocturnal creature is thus explained away in the prosaic light of day. An hour later as our dug-out rounds a sharp bend in the canho, there comes to our ears a series of rasping cries — hoarse and creaking as of unoiled wheels. The glasses show 27 THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE. “VONOOVNY NV — ANALSAPY AAOUDY. NV] 2HL JO NOILATOS ‘cI Ol 28 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. a flock of large, brown, fowl-like birds in a clump of bushes overhanging the water. Their barred wings and tall, delicate crests tell us that they are the bird of all others which we had hoped to see and study. We are floating within a hundred feet of a flock of Hoatzins"— the strange reptile-like, living fossils which are found only in this part of the world, and which are closely related to no other living bird. Fic. 13. Hoarzins Iv THE BAMBOOS ON THE GUARAPICHE. As we draw near, the birds flutter through the foliage as if their wings were broken. We find that this is their usual mode of progression, and for a most interesting reason. Soon after the young Hoatzins are hatched and while yet unfledged they are able to leave the nest and climb about the branches, and in this they are greatly aided by the use of the wings as arms and hands. The three fingers of the wing are THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE. 29 each armed with a reptile-like claw, and at the approach of danger the birds climb actively about like squirrels or lizards. It has usually been thought that when they grow up they lose all these reptilian habits and behave as conventional feath- ered bipeds should. But we find that while, of course, the fingers are deeply hidden beneath the long flight-feathers of the wing, yet these very feathers are often uscd, fingerlike, in forcing aside thick vines, the birds thus clambering and push- ing their way along. It was with the keenest delight of the pioneer and dis- coverer that we watched these rare creatures. Although they do not nest until July and August, yet we found them in the very trees and bushes which held the remains of last year’s nests, thus revealing their sedentary life during the rest of the year. And day after day and week after week we learned to know that they would be found in this or that tree and nowhere else; they were veritable feathered sloths. They fed chiefly upon leaves, but fish also entered into the bill of fare of at least one individual. We shot two, one for the skin and the other for the skeleton, and we found the plumage in a very worn and ragged con- dition, the wing feathers especially so, where the branches and leaves had rubbed and worn away the barbs. Throughout the noonday heat these birds were always to be found in the foliage overhanging the water, ready when disturbed to flop and thrash a few yards through the mangroves and bamboos. After many days of pure delight, our note-books filled and our photographic plates more than half gone, we decided to see something of the Venezuelan dry land. We would go on and on until we had left the mangroves with all their un- peopled mystery behind us, and see what new surprises the villages of the Guarauno (War-ah-oo’no) Indians and the jungles of the foot-hills would afford. At nine o’clock one night, when the stars alone cast a faint 30 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. weird light over everything, we sent two of the crew ahead in the rowboat to keep our bow straight, and then began a long night of noiseless drifting with the tide. It was a night to remain forever in our memory. The men relieved their monotonous towing with strange wailing chants; on each side the mangroves slipped past, black and menacing; invisible creatures snorted and splashed in sudden terror as we rounded each turn; great fireflies burned on the trees and were reflected in the water, and to our ears came the roars of the four-handed folk, the calls and screams of night birds, the metallic clinks of insects, and ever the gasps and chokings hardly less sinister now that we of the serpents’ burrows had solved their mystery. Throughout all the night we passed up one cafio, down another, past miles and miles of black foliage, all alike to us, almost indistinguisnable in the starlight, yet early next morn- ing as we rose to rout the cloud of mosquitoes about our head nets, the captain said in his soft Spanish tongue, ‘‘ The mountains of my country should be in sight ahead.’ And, indeed, an hour later, as the day dawned, we could discern the blue haze in the north which marked the high land out. Toucans, big Muscovy Ducks * and Snakebirds * flew past us; great brown Woodpeckers and flights of Parrakeets swung across the cafio; dolphins played around us, but we heeded them little, all eager to press on and see the new land. So we sat far up in the bow and watched the mountains take form and the palms upon them become ever more distinct. From a land of mystery untrodden by man, we were soon to come upon a bit of land so prized by man that nations had almost gone to war over it— La Brea (Bray’ah), the strange lake of pitch hidden in the heart of the forest, with its strange birds and fish and animals; lying on the borderland between the foot-hills of the northern Andes and the world of man- groves which for many days had held us so safely in its heart. THE LAND OF A SINGLE TREE. 31 IG. 14. FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE VENEZUELAN MOUNTAINS. * CHAPTER II. THE LAKE OF PITCH. ERETOFORE we had sailed and paddled through a land of mangroves and water, where, with the excep- tion of one or two tiny muddy islets in the forest, there was no solid ground. One day the last of innumerable turns of a narrow cano brought our sloop in sight of real earth — the first dry land of eastern Venezuela. A rough wooden wharf supporting a narrow-gauge line of rails appeared, and beyond rose a steep hill, dotted here and there with little thatched huts, each clinging to a niche scooped out of the clay. We were at the village of Guanoco (Wah-no’co), the shipping point of the pitch lake. A few steps beyond the last hut and one was in the primeval forest — so limited is man’s influ- ence in this region of rapidly growing plants. For five miles the little toy rails zigzagged their uneven way through the jungle. On one side was swamp, into which one could penetrate but a short distance before encountering the advance-guard of the mangroves, the front of the vast host which stretched eastward mile after mile to the sea. West of the track the land rose ten or twenty feet in many places, but even where level it soon lost its swampy character. At the end of the line the strange pitch lake itself appeared as a great plain, on the borderland between low swamps and the foot-hills of the mountains. This was our tramping- ground, and we found it a veritable wonderland of birds and beasts and flowers. One of the first things which attracted our attention were the Orioles or Cassiques *'— great black and yellow beauties with 32 THE LAKE OF PITCH. 33 long whitish beaks and an infinitely varied vocabulary. In the north our eyes are gladdened by the sight of a single pair of Orioles flying about their nest in the elm; here in a single tree there were sometimes over one hundred and fifty inhabited nests, most of which were two feet or more in length. The more we watched these birds the more interesting they Fic. 15. COLONY OF 150 CASSIQUES’ NESTS IN ONE TREE. became. They showed a real intelligence in the selection of a site for their nests. Monkeys, tree-snakes, opossums, and other bird-eating creatures were abundant hereabouts, and for a colony of these conspicuous birds to conceal their nests successfully would be impossible. So their homes are swung out in full view of all. But one or two precautions are always taken. Either the birds choose a solitary tree which fairly overhangs some thatched hut, or else the colony is clustered 34 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. close about one of the great wasps’ nests which are seen here and there high up among the branches of the forest. The Indians and native Venezuelans never trouble the birds, which have been quick to realize and take advantage Fic. 16. NEST AND EcGs OF YELLOW-BACKED CASSIQUE. Observe the Extra Shelter Roof. The lower opening was made to show the egg chamber. of this fact, and weave their nests and care for their young almost within arm’s reach of the thatched roofs. No mon- key dares venture here, and the mongrel dogs keep off all the small nocturnal carnivores. But a colony of Cassiques which chooses to live in the THE LAKE OF PITCH. a6 jungle itself would have short shrift, were it not for the strange communal guardianship of the wasps. These insects are usually large and venomous, and one sting would be enough to kill a bird; indeed, a severe fever often ensues when a man has been stung by half a dozen. So the birds must in some way be immune to the attacks of the wasps. Perhaps their wonderfully complete armor of feathers, scales, and horny beak accounts for this, while their quickness of vision and of action enables them to save their eyelids — their one unprotected spot. Although the Cassiques cannot have learned from experience of the terrible wounds which the wasps can inflict, yet they are keenly alive to the advan- tages to be derived from close association with them. The wasp’s nest is built far out on the tip of the limb of some forest tree, and the long pendent homes of the Cassiques are placed close to it, sometimes eight or ten on the same branch, and others on neighboring limbs, so near that the homes of insects and birds rattle against each other when the wind blows. One such community was placed rather near the ground, where we could watch the inhabitants closely. Frequently when one or two of the big birds returned to their nests with a rush and a headlong plunge into the entrance, the whole branch shook violently. Yet the wasps showed no excite- ment or alarm; their subdued buzzing did not rise in tone. But when I reached up and moved the branch gently down- ward, the angry hum which came forth sent me into the under- brush in haste. From a safe distance I could see the wasps circling about in quick spurts which meant trouble to any intruder, while the excited Cassiques squeaked and screamed their loudest. Whether the slight motion I gave to the branch was unusual enough to arouse the insects, or whether they took their cue from the cries and actions of the alarmed birds, I cannot say. 30 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. The nests are beautifully woven, of very tough palm leaf shreds and grass stems, in shape like tall vases, bulging at the bottom to give room for the eggs and young birds, and with an entrance at the side near the top. We found still another instance of the unusual ability of these birds to adapt themselves to changing conditions. Those nests which were already deserted or with young ready to fly had simple rounded tops arching over to protect the entrance Fic. 17. VENEZUELAN TREE PORCUPINE. from the sun; but in the nests which were in process of con- struction, now at the beginning of the rainy season in early April, there appeared an additional chamber with a dense roof of thatch, in which one of the parents, the male at least in one case, passed the nights, safe from the torrents of sudden rain. Another larger species of Cassique,” dull green in color, built solitary nests, three feet or more in length, but seldom near the homes of men or wasps. Here and there in the THE LAKE OF PITCH. 37 jungle some lofty tree raised its huge white bole free of vine and liana, and smooth as a marble column, towering far above all its fellows; and out on the very tip of one of its swaying branches the nest was woven —safe from all tree- climbing enemies. The notes of these birds were like deep resonant cowbells, ringing through the jungle, clear and metallic. During our stay in the village of Guanoco we had abundant opportunity to observe the relations of a tiny hamlet like this to the great world of primeval nature all around. The jungle pressed close, instantly filling any neglected corner with a tangle of vines and shrubs, ever ready to sweep over all and reforest the little clearings about the huts. Sloths were rare near the village, as it had long been a favorite Sunday amusement to go out and bring in one or more of these defenceless creatures for dinner. But tree porcupines (Sphingurus prehensilis), with bare, prehensile tails and faces like little manatees, were common, as were those gentle little creatures of the night, kinkajous (Cerco- leptes caudivolvulus), or “couchi-couchis”’ as the Indians call them. Catching porcupines and sloths is about as exciting sport as picking blackberries; the porcupine being too confident in its battery of spines to attempt to escape; the sloth relying with pathetic faith on its wonderful resem- blance to a bunch of moss or leaves. The “English Sparrows” of the village were beautiful olive-green Palm Tanagers ™ and great sulphur-breasted Flycatchers * which shrieked Kvss-ka-dee! at you as you passed by. The French in Trinidad tell you that the bird says Qu’est-ce-qw’il-dit? but the Spaniard, true to his poetic temperament, says, “No, Senor, el pajaro dice ‘Cristo- fué!’’’ which seemed especially appropriate at this Easter season. Every day one or two wild Chachalacas’ would fly from 38 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. the jungle to an open space near one of the huts and feed fearlessly with the chickens for an hour or longer. To our northern minds the most remarkable thing was the innumerable variety of all forms of life. Seldom did we find many individuals of any one species, but always there was a constantly changing panorama. We would make a careful list of birds seen near our house, noting certain ones for Fic. 18. Witp CHACHALACA NEAR A Guanoco Hut. future study, and the following day scarcely one of these would be visible, but in their place birds of strange form and colors. The same was true of the insects and the result was as bewildering as it was fascinating. Our habits of observation had all to be changed. Except when birds were actually nesting, we could never be sure of seeing the same species twice, although there was never any doubt that each day would add many new forms to our lists. Though we tramped for miles along the narrow Indian trails and spent many days in swamps and dark jungles, yet THE LAKE OF PITCH. 390 we were troubled scarcely at all with noxious insects. ‘‘ Jig- gers”’ there were in moderate numbers but one could “col- lect”’ more in one day in Virginia than in a month here at this season. During our entire stay we saw only about three or four minute ticks, while mosquitoes were absent, except at night. If we dug in rotten logs, we were sure to unearth centipedes and scorpions, many of them, —- but otherwise we Fic. 19. SCORPION AND ITS YOUNG TAKEN FROM MILADy’s SHOE. rarely saw them. Once, indeed, a mother scorpion (Centru- rus margaritatus) with half a hundred young ones on her back was discovered in a shoe, bringing to mind the old nutsery rhyme. We found that much of the jungle was almost impene- trable, and on one of our first excursions we were fortunate enough to find a means of making the birds come to us from the deeper recesses of the forest. As we left the doorway, a silent little shadow fitted into the pommerosa tree in front of us, and soon among the glossy leaves came a sound which we 40 OUR SEARCH FOR-A WILDERNESS. had heard day and night, but the author of which had thus far evaded us. It is impossible to put into words, but it may be imitated by a monotone whistle, of about four notes to the second, of A above middle C. The glasses showed a mite of a Pygmy Owl glaring at us with wide yellow eyes, and firmly clutching a dead bird, half as large as himself. Later, when standing at the edge of an impenetrable tangle of thorny vines and vainly trying to discover what bird was singing in loud, ringing tones within it, we thought of the fierce little owl, and concealing ourselves, gave the call of Glaucidium. The effect was instantaneous; the song near us ceased, and with angry cries a pair of beautiful Black-capped Mocking- thrushes ”° flew almost overhead. Black-tailed Euphonias “° and Grassfinches followed, Bananaquits *” whirred about us, and within a few minutes thirty or forty birds had testified to the hatred in which the little Owl is held. A great surprise to our northern eyes was the Yellow Wood- pecker, not uncommon here, and clad in bright yellow plumage from crest to tail. It was very conspicuous in flight, but when it alighted, merged with the Hchened bark and spots of sunlight. One bird was very tame and fre- quented a tree close by our window. One of our first walks led us through a narrow valley or gorge to the westward, shaded by ranks of tall palms and with isolated banana and cocoa plants, hinting of native Indian clearings long since overwhelmed by the luxuriant jungle growth. Wasps and other Hymenoptera outnum- bered other insects at this season, and one could have col- lected scores of different species in a few hours. A few Heliconia butterflies drifted across our path, and now and then a giant morpho shot past like a meteor of iridescent blue. Other great butterflies (Caligo ilioneus) were iridescent blue and brown above, while the under sides of their wings were mottled and with a great eye-spot on each of the hind wings, THE LAKE OF PITCH. 41 which gives them the name of the owl butterfly. But however much, in an insect cabinet, the expanded reverse of the wings suggests the face of an owl, the spot, as we observed it in the forest, seemed rather to render the insect invisible. These great fellows would shoot up toa lichen-covered trunk and drop lightly upon it, and unless one’s eyes had followed Fic. 20. YELLOW WOODPECKER. closely, the butterfly vanished like magic. Creeping up to one we secured its picture, the mottlings on its wings merg- ing it with the lichens, and its owl-eyes becoming the painted facsimiles of darkened knotholes, or of little atoll-like fungus rings. One is constantly impressed by the abundance and variety of these protective adaptations. Instead of one’s eyes be- 42 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. coming more accustomed and trained in detecting these de- ceptions, the puzzles increase, and one becomes suspicious of everything. Every few minutes we are halted by a curled leaf which resembles some great caterpillar, or by a partly decayed fruit which may prove to be a curiously marked Fic. 21. Owt ButtERFLy oN Cocoa Bark. beetle. Many of these are such exact counterparts that we have to touch them to undeceive ourselves. Aiter seeing some bats hung in the shadows between the buttressed bases of great trees, we imagine them in every patch of moss or dried leaves. The resemblance to inanimate objects is never violated and often remarkably heightened by the little creatures of fur, THE LAKE OF PITCH. 43 feather, scale or armor of chitin. The bats never alight in a close compact mass, but each isolated, with its wings partly spread, and often extended irregularly, one webbed hand higher or farther out than the other, thus presenting a dull, irregular outline, at which we should never have looked twice, had not the little beasties become frightened and flown. A butterfly (Peridromia feronia), mottled and pearly on the upper side, snaps clicking to a lichened trunk and alights head downward with wings flat. Beneath they are white and conspicuous. The inverted position allows the hinder wings to be pressed flat to the surface of the bark, while the slight shadow caused by the prominence of the body in front is thus below and invisible. Another, brilliant red on the upper side and irregularly marked below, never alights, as far as our experience went, except-on some lichened trunk. In this case however the wings were held tightly together, and the insect always in a head downward position. The insect took to wing so quickly that only a hint of the red was visible. We never could tell what new form of protective resem- blance would next come under our notice. Here and there in the woods we found trees which had fallen in a clear space and had torn out their roots in the fall, forming a great bank of earth and mould, held together by the network of root fibres. Hanging suspended by slender root tendrils were many small pellets of earth slowly swaying and disintegrating. We found that some of these were not mere accidents of inorganic forces, but were the nests of a small mud wasp made in a roughly circular form and moulded to one of the many rootlets. Lizards perhaps more than any other group of backboned animals become part and parcel of their surroundings in form and color. We sometimes found dull gray and green fellows on the trunks of trees or the ends of half rotten logs, which 44 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. almost defied the efforts of the eye to disentangle them from the lichens and moss amid which they clung. When one of these did move it was with such celerity that the eye uncon- sciously swept onward, impelled by momentum, and over- shot the spot where it stopped. Then another careful search was necessary to rediscover the reptile. This same glade was the favorite haunt of two kinds of small Manakins, the Gold- headed ** and the White- breasted." The former was a mite of a bird, barely four inches in length, jet-black as to body and wings, but with a cap of gold pulled down over his head and ears. If his eyes were black and beady like those of his near relatives, the harmony of his head-dress would be disturbed, so Dame Nature has sifted the gold over his eyes as well, and the yellow irides are almost invis- ible among the feathers. Such coloring renders him part of Fic. 22. Lizarp ALERT ON TRUNK his beloved Borge. If he sits or TREE. in the shade his body vanishes and his head is naught but a spot of sunshine; if his perch is in sunlight, the tiny, head- less body conveys no hint of a living bird. His cousin, the White-breasted, is black and white and the four outer feathers of the wing are very narrow and curved. These are the strings upon which he plays an eolian song THE LAKE OF PITCH. 45 of love, for every time he takes to flight a loud humming sound is produced. The females are dull olive in color but easily recognizable by their orange feet and legs. Sometimes three suitors would buzz and hum together about one of these sombre little ladies in the gloom of the gorge. Fic. 23. THe SAME LizARD A MomENT LATER, OBLITERATED BY CHANGE OF POSITION. The rotten trees and palm stubs were filled with interesting insects; big black palm weevils (Rhyncophorus palmatum) an inch and a half long, and huge brown cockroaches three inches from head to wing-tip (Blaberus trapezoideus). With a machete we cut open one log, which was like bread in consistency, and found two centipedes, three scorpions, one 46 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. of them a whip scorpion, a huge beetle larva, a small snake, with a faint band about its neck (Homalocranium melano- cephalum) and most interesting of all, a Peripatus. Perhaps the reader here wonders to himself what a Peripatus is, and it is a pity that this most important creature has no common name. We may call it a worm-like caterpillar or a caterpillar-like worm, for its claim to fame rests upon its position as a so-called missing link. We know that in long ages past the ancestor of the butterflies, beetles, wasps, spiders and crabs was a worm-like creature, primitive in structure and in no way hinting of the beautiful organisms which were to be evolved in succeeding epochs. Hiding away from light, in the warm moisture of decaying wood, the little Peripatus has lived on and on, age after age, with little apparent change, until we find it to-day combining the simpler characters of the lowly worms with those of the vastly higher caterpillars. The Peripatus which we unearthed, or rather unlogged, was of a rich, dark reddish hue. It was caterpillar-like in general appearance, but not divided into segments, while the number of its very simple feet and its method of progression brought to mind the millipedes. The long, slender antenne were constantly in motion, changing and extending, feeling about and retracting. Glancing at the leaf of a low shrub, we saw what we sup- posed to be two bits of dried, rolled-up leaf entangled ina strand of spider web and being whirled about by the wind. When we saw that this motion continued after the breeze had died down, we became interested. We discovered that the two objects were tineid moths of a dark pearl color, waltz- ing about with the most graceful and airy motion imaginable. With closed wings they whirled round and round by means of their legs alone, and, most remarkably, both going in the same direction, although this was frequently changed, the THE LAKE OF PITCH. 47 reversal being almost instantaneous and without an instant’s loss of the smoothness of the rhythm. Now and then their circles overlapped, but at the first danger of collision the tiny dervishes both retreated without stopping their dance. Presently one flew away, and the other shifted to another leaf Fic. 24. Nest AND Eccs oF GREAT BLUE TINAMOU. near by, and recommenced his waltz alone. It was a sur- prise to find these little winged millers in the réle of graceful dancers. The reason of it remained a mystery. These incidents are quoted as some among the myriad interesting doings of the little folk which we observed in the heart of these great jungles. As we walked on, virgin forest surrounded us, with great trees centuries old, chained and netted together by miles upon miles of lianas. Now and 48 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. then we entered a clear glade festooned by a maze of ropes and cables, with here and there a lofty monkey-ladder lead- ing upward by a wavy series of narrow steps. The cicadas filled the air with the oriental droning of their song, and a big Red-crested Woodpecker * called loudly from a_half- rotted, vine-choked tree. From the undergrowth came a soft rolling trill, a crescendo of power and sweetness, and when our Indian carrier whispered, “Gallina del monte,” we knew we were listening to the call of a Great Blue Tinamou'— one of those strange birds looking like brown, tailless fowls, but of so generalized a type that they form in many ways a link between the ostrich-like forms and the rest of the bird world. The bird which was calling soon became silent, but creeping slowly along we were fortunate enough to discover its nest on a bit of sunny turf near the end of a log in a partially over- grown clearing. All the delights of bird-nesting seemed con- summated the moment we caught sight of the two wonderful eggs before us. The nest was merely a hollow scratched in the grass, but the sun was reflected from two shining spheres of metallic greenish blue, ike two huge turquoises polished as by the wheel of a lapidary. Never were such eggs; they seemed of hard burnished metal, more akin to the stones lying about them than to the organic world, and yet, even as we looked, there appeared a tiny fracture, and in a few minutes the beak of a Tinamou chick had broken through to the outer air. The glistening cradle of stone would soon fall apart and give to the tropical world another life — one more mote among the millions upon millions about us. Now and then we would come across a huge low mound, clear of undergrowth, dotted with holes from which well- trodden paths led off in every direction. Some of these were six inches in width, so that we could easily walk in them. A twig poked down the holes and twisted about would come up covered with angry ants, great brownish-black fellows THE LAKE OF PITCH. 49 with a grip like a bulldog. Even this simile fails, for these insects will allow their heads to be pulled off before they will let go. Everywhere the ants attracted our attention; huge black giants (Neoponera commutata), which seemed never to have anything to do but parade slowly up and down the trunks of trees; and the ever-busy parasol-ants, hustling along in single file, waving their green banners and clinging faithfully to them while falling down terrific precipices three or four inches deep. We dug into their nests and found their fungi gardens, one part of which would be freshly planted with neat black balls of chewed-up green leaves, while in another part the fungus was well grown — a meshwork of gray strands whose fruit was ready to be plucked and eaten. The hunting-ants (Zciion) surpassed all the others in interest. Day after day we would come across their great armies, and we spent many hours of keen enjoyment watch- ing their advance. We had read of their appearance and habits; we had heard them compared to Goths and hordes of savages, but no description prepares one for the actual sight. We watched in particular one large army which carried on its operations only a short distance from our house. Long before we came within sight of the ants themselves their presence would be heralded by the flock of birds which kept just in advance, feeding upon the insects which flew up from the van of the ant legions. In one such assemblage most of the birds were Woodhewers, big, cinnamon-colored, creeper-like birds which hitched up the tree trunks and now and then swooped down to the ground, snatched an insect and swung back to the trunk. This flock of birds showed other methods of feeding; Hummingbirds appeared from nowhere, dashed down to a tiny insect and vanished into space; Anis *° blundered along, looking as if their wings and 50 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. tails were too loosely attached for use; Ant-birds crept low through the bushes and carried their prey to a twig to eat; two American Redstarts *° caught their prey by a sudden dart and a snap of the beak. One species in particular, the Streaked Flycatcher,” was always attendant on the ants and always fearless, watching us and yet never missing a chance to snap up a passing insect. and several Tyrant Flycatchers Fic. 25. WOODHEWER CLINGING TO THE TRUNK OF A TREE. As we drew nearer, a strange rustling sound reached our ears, like the regular pattering of raindrops, and before we knew it we were standing in the midst of thousands of active ants, whose rushing and scrambling about over the dead leaves caused the loud rustling. In a few seconds twenty or thirty ants had climbed upon and above our shoes, and their sharp, nipping bites sent us in haste to the flanks of the army, where we freed ourselves from the fierce creatures. THE LAKE OF PITCH. 51 These ants are not large, varying from a fifth to a third of an inch in length, dark in color, with lighter red abdomens. Until one becomes accustomed to these scenes of carnage the sight is really terrible, especially when one lies down flat and takes an ant’s-eye view of the field of battle. Yet such is the fierceness and savage fury on one side and hopeless terror or frantic efforts to escape on the part of the victims that it needs but little imagination to stir deeply one’s sym- pathies. Fic. 26. STREAKED FLYCATCHER. In place of the steady advance of a well-drilled army, pre- senting a solid front of serried ranks, the formation of the hunting-ants may be compared to an innumerable host of cavalry scouts who quarter the ground in every direction, the whole army slowly advancing and including new terri- tory in the scene of operations. Frequent flurries or louder tustlings follow the discovery and the subsequent terrible struggle of some quarry of noble size —a huge beetle or mighty lizard. 52 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. One fact impressed us from the first: every creature aroused by the ants seemed to know instinctively of the awful danger. Whether through odor or sight or sound, the alarm always carried its full meaning. Insects which ordinarily would es- cape the collecting net by a single quick motion, here dashed away with such terror that they often flew against our clothes or a tree, and were hurled to the ground. Lizards took shelter under our shoes or shot off like streaks of light for many yards. Our presence and that of the predatory birds was disregarded in the efforts to avoid the danger which generations of inherited experience had made the most vivid in hfe. Insects which usually feigned death as a means of escape, when disturbed by these ants used all the motor organs given them by nature to flee from the dreaded foe. Escape seemed to be the result of accident with all wingless creatures, even with those possessing good eyesight, for the first blind terrified rush as often carried them to certain death in the thickest of the host as it did to safety in the van or on one side of the ant army. Even wings were not a surety of escape. Twice I saw moths arise heavily from their hiding- places with a half-dozen of the little fiends clinging to their legs and wings. One was snapped up, ants and all, by a big Flycatcher, and the other fell among the quartermaster’s brigade in the rear, where every ant within reach dropped his load and hurled himself upon the newcomer. Here and there one might observe good-sized balls of ants rolling about, and in the centre would be some hard-cased beetle or other insect, who gave up only after killing and maiming a score of his assailants. We dropped five big black ants into the midst of the marauders, and witnessed a combat as thrilling as the con- test between the Greeks and Persians. Four of the insects alighted on a small rounded stone over which three hunting- THE LAKE OF PITCH. 53 ants were scurrying. Without hesitation the black giants fell upon the brown warriors and tore them limb from limb, with the loss of only half aleg. This is not avery serious hand- icap, when one has five and a half robust limbs left! The fifth big fellow dropped upon a mass of ants piled like foot- ball-players upon a struggling scorpion, whose sting was lashing the air in vain. The big ant started another ripple upon this pool of death, which soon smoothed away, leaving no recognizable trace of him. But the quartet of big-jawed fellows on their rock citadel fought successfully and well. No ant which crept to the top ever lived to return for help. The four flew at him like wolves and bit him to death. Soon a ring of hunting-ants formed around the stone, all motionless except for a frantic twiddling of antenne. They were appar- ently excited by the smell of the blood of their dead fellows, and only rarely did one venture now and then to scale the summit. When we left, two hours afterward, the army had passed, and left the stone and its four doughty defenders, who showed no immediate mtention of leaving their fortress. The ground over which the hunting-ants passed was absolutely bare of life, and, contrary to the rule in human armies, it was among the camp-followers and foragers that the most perfect discipline reigned. In the rear of the main army were lines upon lines of ants laden with the spoils: legs, bodies, and heads of insects and spiders, bits of scaly skin of lizard or turtle, joints of centipedes and scorpions, and here and there a piece of ragged but gaudy butterfly- wing borne aloft like the captured standard of some opposing force. We followed three lines of supply-carriers and found that they converged on some sheltered hollow in a tree or under a boulder or root. Here were massed countless hordes of ants clinging together like a swarm of bees. In the centre were the queen, eggs, and young of these nomadic savages, resting 54 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. thus temporarily until the far-distant scouts should report another shelter, when the whole community would shift to the new home, farther along on the line of march. The army in which we were especially interested seemed to be carrying on their hunting in a rough circle about the temporary home, and perhaps this is a common habit. Cer- tain ants apparently serve some function of direction or means of communication, for they keep to one place for a half hour at a time and twiddle their antennz with every ant which approaches. It was when the hunting-ants discovered the nests of other species of ants that warfare, true to its name, was waged. One could watch as from a balloon, mimic Waterloos and Gettysburgs, and sad to relate, in the case of inoffensive species, plunder, murder, and abduction by the wholesale. After studying the ways of these merciless creatures, we could seldom walk through the quiet, sunlit jungle, with blossoming orchids everywhere overhead and the songs of birds and pleasant hum of insects in our ears, without thinking of the tragedies without number ever going on around us. Used as we were only to the small lightning bugs of our northern summer nights, the big luminous elater beetles (P-yro- phorus sp.) were ever of interest. The two thoracic lights are placed on the outer posterior edges and give out a pale greenish glow of great intensity. We could easily see to read and write by their light, and by placing a half dozen of these insects in a glass we could use them instead of our electric flash. When we examined them carefully we were surprised to find that there was another area of illumination on the ab- domen, below and just behind the insertion of the third pair of legs. When fully illuminated this area was brilliant and of a figure o shape. The light however was radically dif- ferent from that of the thorax, being yellowish, and candle- THE LAKE OF PITCH. 55 like, giving an illusory impression of an opening from the incandescent interior of the insect. When the insect settles to rest the only visible illumination is from the pair of thoracic lights, but in flight the abdominal searchlight comes into play, burning brightly with a strong yellowish glare quite different from the green thoracic lights. As we lay at night half asleep we would sometimes be awakened by the droning of one or two big elaters, whose intermittent flashes would illumine the whole room. More than once we had to capture the intruders with the butterfly net and banish them before we could get any sleep. We chloroformed two of these luminous beetles and pinned them in an insect box. Two evenings afterward when we had occasion to add more insects, the box was opened and to our surprise the little lanterns were still aglow and hardly less brilliant than when the insects were alive. They had been dead forty-eight hours and yet their light still shone ghostly white, lighting up the other insects in the box. One evening we found a tiny wire worm, the larva of some small species of elater, which was highly phosphorescent. Although only about one-half of an inch in length, the whole head, the posterior segment and a spot on the side of each of the others was bright. Watched as it moved smoothly and rapidly along, it reminded us of a ship passing at a distance at night with the lights streaming from the port-holes. Our trips to the pitch lake on the early morning engine will never be forgotten. A warning toot from the diminutive whistle hurries us through our breakfast, and we hasten to the track and see our cameras and guns loaded on one of the little square wooden ‘“‘empties.”” We mount the wood-filled tender of the engine, which with many complaining creaks and jolts get under way, backing slowly around the curve which hides the last sign of civilization and buries us in the jungle. 56 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. For nearly twenty years these little toy engines have bustled and elbowed their way over the snaky rails, until the jungle and its people have come to look upon this narrow winding steel path as part of the general order of things. The under- brush creeps close, and only the constant whipping of the engines and cars beats down the growth between the rails. Fic. 27. THE JUNGLE RAILROAD. As we start, the last bats of night dash into the dark jungle, and their diurnal prototypes, a flock of graceful Palm Swifts," swoop about overhead. To our ears there comes the finalé of the morning chorus of distant red howlers and the first deep-toned bellings of the giant Cassiques. All along the line, beasts and birds show their lack of fear of the rumbling cars. A party of chattering little monkeys THE LAKE OF PITCH. v4 sit and gibber at us and rub their dew-drenched fur. Their parents and great-grandparents had found nothing to fear in this strange thing which, five times each day, crawls back and forth on its narrow trail, and why should they do more than look and wonder? As we come in sight of the muddy banks of the little river, a great Parrot shrieks in derision at Fic. 28. SPIDER LILIES NEAR PircH LAKE. us from the top of a dead stub by the track, executing slow somersaults for our benefit. Instinctively we look for a chain on its leg and a food cup near by! A splash draws our eyes downward, and from a maelstrom of muddy water shoots a villainous sting ray. A school of little staring four- eyes skips over the water, and near the swampy, farther bank, a sprawling half-grown crocodile watches us — as quiet as a stranded log. 58 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. The air blows cool and damp on our faces, and we long for the keen power of scent of a dog. Even to our dull nostrils every turn of the road is full of interest. A swamp, thickly starred with dainty spider-lilies, comes into view, and we inhale draughts of sweetest incense; Easter Sunday is at hand, and the very wilderness reminds us of it. With every breath of air the great palm leaves flick myriads of drops to the underbrush below, with a sound as of heavy rain. The trunks are black and soaked, and there is not a dry frond for miles. A sudden curve brings another loop of the river into view, with a foreground of scuttling crabs and mangrove seedlings. Here a wave of coarse, salty, marsh smell fills our lungs — not stagnant, but redolent of the distant sea; the smell that makes one’s blood leap. The next quarter-mile is covered with lilies again. From their perfume we enter a zone of recently cut grass — and the incense brings to mind northern hay-fields and the sweet- grass baskets of the Indians. What new pains and pleasures would be ours could we possess the power of scent of some of the “lower” animals! Temperate succeed tropical vistas; we see what at first appears to be a grove of young chestnuts rising from rhodo- dendrons and guinea-grass. A Spotted Sandpiper” heightens the illusion, and the picture is complete when a familiar milk- weed butterfly floats by and alights on a red and yellow tansy. But just then a Macaw shrieks from a near-by tree — the road-bed turns and reveals a tangle of palms and scarlet heliconias —a monkey climbs up a leaf large enough to shelter half a hundred of his kind. Strange palm fruits come into view, some like enormous clusters or bunches of grapes — each fruit as large as an orange ; or again a huge feathery, dependent frond of dust-brown blossom and fruit protected by an overhanging spathe like a huge umbrella. The jungle never gives up the struggle against the invading 59 PITCH. THE LAKE OF ‘HOLIG {0 NVI HL —vaug vw] 62 ‘og LEA) 60 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. rails. Beneath the cars the constant friction only dwarfs the growth, and we find here miniature plants blooming, fruiting, and scattering seed; plants which elsewhere reach a height of five or six feet. It is an interesting case of quick adaptation to unfavorable conditions. The vegetation presses on every inch of the track, striving ever to close up the long scar through the heart of the forest, and only by systematic cutting is the way kept open. The advance of the jungle host is most interesting. Thirty feet from the rails the growth is primeval, a dense mass of entan- gled and interlaced vines, shrubs, palms, and giant trees, the boles of the latter shooting up and up through the mass and bursting into bloom high overhead. Nearer the track we find a phalanx of green banners and the wonderfully brilliant red and yellow flower stalks of the quick-growing heliconias. In front are the rough scouts, the real advance- guard of strong, thorny vines growing in close entanglement — a living chevaux-de-frise, inconspicuous and yet offering the greatest resistance. Under this shelter the larger but slower-growing components of the jungle take root and gather vigor, until, if not cut out with the hardest labor, they soon rear their heads from their nursery of vines and brambles, and the shining rails vanish from view. All the creatures of the forest cross and recross the track freely, even in front of an approaching train. Water-fowl, Sun-bitterns * and the weird-voiced Trumpeters* walk up and down, and flocks of Seedeaters *’ drift here and there, gleaning seed from between the rails. ‘The Trumpeters were a great surprise to us, as this is the first instance of their being found north of the Orinoco River. One day we see the leaves part, and a long, low-shouldered reddish form slouches across before us, without even a glance at us, and we know it for the first South American puma (Felis concolor) which we have seen. Another “red lion,” as THE LAKE OF PITCH. 61 the natives called it, with two cubs, was seen not long before. Only the sloth is barred. He comes close to the endless swath; he wanders from tree to tree up and down, peering dully out across the track, but he cannot cross. The twenty-foot treeless embankment is as impregnable to him as a sheer wall of rock. With a weird cry he turns back and starts in another direction through the branches. Fic. 30, THe Fata, ‘‘MoTHER OF THE LAKE.” We reach the lake long before the dew is dried and before the freshness of the dawn is dissipated. Hurrying over the planks and the temporary rails laid for the workman’s hand- cars, we push on a half-mile or more to the southward, where nothing hints of man’s proximity. To the north and west are irregular peaks running off into a blue and misty range — the foot-hills of the Spanish Main. To the south the high woods are close to us and tower high overhead, but even with the eye of yonder lofty, soaring Vulture we could see no 62 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. mountains in that direction — nothing but flat, green miles of mangroves, stretching to the horizon over the immense delta of the Orinoco. The pitch lake itself is surrounded on all sides by dense forests, the front ranks of which are made up of the marvellously tall and graceful moriche palms. There is one oasis in this pitchy expanse — Parrot Island it Fic. 31. WHITE-HEADED CHIMACHIMA HAWK AND ETA Pawo. may be called. To this shelter, guarded on all sides by soft, quaking pitch, Amazon Parrots come at dusk by hundreds, roosting there until the next morning. Near the northern edge is the “mother of the lake,” just above the deep-hidden source of supply, where the pitch is always soft, and where no vegetation grows. It is a veritable pool of death, and nothing can enter it and live. The lizards THE LAKE OF PITCH. 63 and heavy-bodied insects which scamper over the rim are often clogged and drawn down to death. A jaguar, leaping after a Jacana, slipped in shortly before we came and made a terrible fight for life. Half blinded, its struggles carried it only farther outward, but fortunately the end came mer- cifully soon. All the rest of the lake is a varied expanse of black pitch Fic. 32. AMAZON Parrot Roost, PircH Lake. bubbles, short grass, clumps of fern and sedge, with occasional isolated palms. Flowers of many kinds and colors spring from the heart of the raw pitch itself. Jacanas * rise before us with loud cries and flashing wings of gold. One may walk over the lake at will, morning and evening, but in the heat of midday, in many places, one’s shoes sink quickly unless one keeps constantly on the move. White is not a very common color in nature, and yet here, in striking contrast with the inky blackness of the pitch, most of the birds show large patches of this color. In the dis- 64 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. tance are always to be seen Snowy Egrets* and immature Blue Herons ** — spots of purest white, while near at hand, absurdly tame, a big hawk forever soars slowly about or Fic. 33. Tae Home or THE AMAZON PARROT IN THE MIDDLE OF Pirca Lake. perches on some great frond of a tall palm. It is a White- headed Chimachima Hawk ** with plumage of white, save for back, wings, and tail. The two most abundant small birds are chiefly white in THE LAKE OF PITCH. 65 color. Both are Flycatchers, one with white head and neck — White-headed Marsh Flycatcher * — perching in the reeds and making fierce sallies after passing insects, while even more beautiful and conspicuous are the little terrestrial Flycatchers — White-shouldered Ground Flycatchers” or “Cotton Birds” — which scurry along the ground over AMAZON PARROT AT ENTRANCE OF NEST. Fic. 34. FIFTEEN FEET AWAY. Fic. 35. TEN FEET AWAY. pitch and fallen logs. Their tails continually wag from side to side, and they come within a few feet of us, uttering low inquiring notes: pit! pit! They too are clad in white, except for back, nape, wings, and tail. We follow one about, watching it through the ground- glass of the camera, when we blunder into a thicket of dry, 66 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. crackling twigs. A sudden rustling sound draws our atten- tion, and we look up and find ourselves within a few feet of a dry palm stub. Around the roughened stringy bark peers a green head with wide, yellow eyes, and we stiffen into immobility. The position is anything but comfortable; thorns are scratching us, flies are tickling our faces, but we rey Fic. 36. AMAZON PARROT ABOUT TO TAKE FLIGHT. dare not move. After five minutes, which seem hours, the big Yellow-fronted Amazon Parrot “! withdraws, and we hear a scuttling within the stub. Silently and with the greatest caution we step backward, and after a rest w plan of attack. These birds usually nest in hollows in the tops of the tallest, most inaccessible trees, and this is a golden opportunity e arrange our THE LAKE OF PITCH. 67 —one in a lifetime—for a photograph of a Parrot at home. The entrance is rectangular, about three by six inches, and some five feet above the ground. Painfully I pick my way to the side of the stub, and bracing myself, focus on that spot Fic. 37. Eccs AND YOUNG OF AMAZON PARROT IN THE NEST. of black on the trunk. Then Milady rustles the weeds in the rear of the stub. Again a rustling, and on the ground-glass of my Graflex flashes the green head. Snap! I have her! and with the slowest of motions I change plates. While she is engrossed with the disturber in the rear I advance a step and get another picture. Then screwing up my speed-button, I push slowly forward, and just as she is about to hurl herself 68 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. from the stub I secure a third photograph. Off she goes to the nearest palms, shrieking at the top of her lungs, and is joined by her mate. We cut a hole in the trunk near the ground, and there find the nest of the parrot. Three white eggs, one of which is pipped, and a young bird just hatched reward us, all resting on a bed of chips. The diminutive polly is scantily clothed with white down, and while in the shade lies motionless. When a ray of warm sunlight strikes it the little fellow be- comes uneasy and crawls and tumbles about until it escapes from the unwelcome heat. During its activity it keeps up a continuous, low, raucous cry like the mew of a catbird. Far out on the expanse of black pitch — six feet in the depth of this dark cavity! — this little squawking mite surely had a strange babyhood to fit it for its future life in the sunlight among the palms. It was the Yellow-fronted Amazon Parrot,** a common species with dealers everywhere, but we shall never see one in a cage, uttering inane requests for crackers, without thinking of the interesting family we discovered at the pitch lake. We found strange fish in the pools of water scattered over the lake. Some must have wriggled their way over dry land for some distance to get there. There were round, sunfish- like fellows (Aequidens) and others, long and slender, with wicked-looking teeth (Hoplias malabaricus). Most curious of all were the Loricates or armored catfish, with a double row of large overlapping scales enclosing their body from head to tail. Like the Hoatzins among the birds, these fish are strange relics of the past, preserved almost unchanged from the ancient fossil Devonian forms. Days passed like hours in this wonderland, and the time for returning to civilization came all too soon. The strange living beings which filled jungle and air and water, THE LAKE OF PITCH. 69 FIs FROM THE Poots IN PitcH LAKE. Fic. 38. Aeyuidens sp. Fic. 39. Hoplias malabaricus. 7O OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. made us long for the leisure of months instead of weeks, in which to study all the infinite variety of life which surrounded us. Our last view of Venezuela was like the first — a panorama of silent, majestic green walls, guarding a stream of brilliant copper; every one of the untold myriads of beating hearts beyond the walls resting silent in the noonday heat, waiting for the coolness of evening to awaken them to activity. To some it would bring song and happiness with nest and mate, to some combat, to others death. CHAPTER III. A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. (By Mary Blair Beebe.) HE doings of the creatures in fur, feathers and scales kept us keenly interested from morning to night, yet in our wilderness search there were many unnatural history experiences —some disagreeable, others thrilling —but all so wholly delightful in their charm of strangeness to the woman who enjoyed them that the picture of our wilderness seems incomplete without them. Life on board a Venezuelan sloop is quite unlike any other experience in the world. Neither the woman who sits under the awning of a luxurious yacht nor her more adventurous sister who sails her own catboat over turbulent waters can form any idea of the daily life aboard such a craft. The night we set forth in our tiny sloop from the Island of Trinidad, headed for an unexplored part of the Orinoco delta, it was hard to realize that we were at last bound for South America, the land of our dreams. As you know we were, for the present, owners of a sloop flying the Vene- zuelan flag and manned by five men, of whom only the Captain knew a word of English. The charm of exploration and adventure laid a spell upon us both — El Sefior Natu- ralista and me—and we watched in silence the sunset sky and the dim receding shores of Trinidad. But there was a certain stern reality about that first night aboard the “Josefa Jacinta” that soon broke in upon our reveries. When we descended to the tiny cabin to unpack, 71 72 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. the sloop had begun to pitch heavily and we set ourselves to solve the problems of unstable equilibrium, which constantly shifting angles of 30° to 4o° presented in both floor and walls. By courtesy we called our domicile a cabin, and we found that it would hold two people —at a pinch! We unearthed our unused pneumatic mattresses and rigged up our gilded foot pump. For fifteen minutes W—— Fic. 4o. Our SLoop AT GUANOCO, worked, then the mate was called and took a hand. Were we on a sinking ship and manning the pumps for our lives, greater exertions could not have been made, and the reward was a thin film of air within the rubber bed. Then we un- screwed the decorative but useless contrivance, and W—— began to blow. This proved effective, and in a few minutes we had placed the soft, air-filled cushions in our respective bunks. We dubbed these bunks catacombs at once, for the A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. 73 tiny niches into which we later crept were more like the vaults of a tomb than aught else. TI doubt if either of us will ever forget that first night. Be- neath the flooring and behind the planked sides of the vessel was a mysterious underworld, densely populated by rats of most sportive disposition. How they managed to live there we never discovered, for we neither caught sight of one throughout the voyage, nor were we ever troubled by raids on biscuits or other edibles. There seemed to be some kind of a running track extending around the hidden depths of the sloop. A race would start near the stern, the contestants tearing around W then the footfalls would die out toward the bow to become audible almost at once on my side —a medley of sound indi- ’s bunk; cating a mob of invisible rushing creatures, galloping down a mysterious homestretch. For some time we expected the goal of each race to be some part of ourselves or our luggage, but the “heat” would invariably end on the under side of the partition within a few inches of my car, and then would fol- low a general mélée and fight, punctuated with shrill squeaks and squeals and vicious blows and sounds of tumbling, rolling bodies. Were we in the mood we might have learned much of rat vocabulary. But we did not then know that these strenuous rodents never penetrated to the upper portions of the sloop and this uncertainty kept alive our interest in their manceuvers throughout the night. Silence was unknown during this first night, and while the rats were resting, other things occupied our minds and kept away ennui —and sleep. The gurgle and splash of bilge water was a steady accompaniment of the pitch and toss of the sloop, while now and then a sinister trickling came to our ears. We called up to the captain and inquired about it, and were assured that it was “only a leak!’’ He had looked for it many times, but could not locate it. This gave us food for thought, 74. OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. besides adding decidedly to the slowness of the ticking of the watch marking the passage of the hours of darkness. I lay in my berth as long as I could endure it; dreaming now and then of being buried alive, then rising with a start and striking my head against the coffin lid of my catacomb. At last I abandoned it for the floor of the cabin, sloping and under five feet in total length though it was. I found it was better to be huddled in a forlorn little bundle on the floor than in that hole which by no stretch of the imagination could be called a berth. Overhead the crew worked fitfully all night long. I could move the hatch curtain, look up and see the sturdy old Captain with his hand on the rudder — a picture which was to become familiar to us through many nights. What a picturesque old figure he was — rugged and stern, yet as gentle and courteous as any gentleman of the old school — and bearing his three-score and eight years with wonderful vigor. Now and then his deep voice would rise above the roar of wind and waves in hoarse commands in Spanish to the crew. Then he would push the rudder hard up, the boom would swing over with a jerk which made the whole sloop tremble and a wave would wash over the deck and send a trickle of cold drops down upon my face. Smothered exclamations from the crew and the sound of their bare feet splashing along the deck would end the audible part of the manoeuvre. Then I would shift to meet the new angle of the floor and wait for the next race of the rats. Now and then the Captain would reach behind the hatch curtain for his watch and examine its dripping face by the light of the candle in the compass box. ‘“ Falian las cinco & la una,” he would mutter, and I knew that midnight had passed and that somewhere in our wake, morning was on its way to end this night of nights. The tempest increased and tossed our sloop like a flying leaf. Sometimes it seemed as A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. 75 if we never would right ourselves after heeling far over into the depths. But the calm face of our helmsman dispelled all uneasiness, and I lay staring into the darkness, feeling myself the veriest atom amid this fierce tumult. To this moment I cannot tell how long it took us to get from Trinidad to Venezuela across that awful Gulf of Paria. To me it seemed an endless space of time — day succeeding night—with choppy seas, ominous noises in the pitching cabin, hot sleepy hours on deck in the shade of the sail, with the great green waves forever rolling after and breaking partly over us. By the Captain’s reckoning, however, it was the noon of only the second day which revealed the distant shore, and soon we forgot all the discomforts of the past hours in the wonderful beauty of the scene before us — the still, brassy waters and the rich green mangroves. Entering the wide Cafio San Juan we dropped anchor in the lee of a solitary guard ship, a poor derelict, a rusty and worn-out freighter, whose last days were to be spent here in the calm waters at the edge of the mangrove forest. Our little sloop was soon over-run with young custom-house officials frora the guard ship, curious but courteous, and far more appreciative of the stiff rounds of rum which our Cap- tain willingly served to them under our direction, than of our gilt-sealed letters of introduction. If we would but take their photographs on board the ‘‘ Pon- tén,” they would row us close along the shore while we waited for the “ fulling tide,” as the Captain called it. Of course we agreed. Shouldering their rusty muskets they stood in a row to be photographed, — young inexperienced boys, whose idle days on the derelict were spent in drinking, smoking cigarettes and lying in hammocks playing the mandolin, watching for the rare sloop or schooner which might enter Venezuela by this desolate and unfrequented caf. We promised to send them the pictures; but Captain Trux- 76 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. illo said afterwards with a sad shake of his head that they would have lost their positions long before the pictures could reach them. No one ever stayed long; there was always someone to carry reports to Castro of treachery and plotting, and there would be new faces on the “‘ Pontén,” to stay a little while and then to disappear like their predecessors. Fic. 41. VENEZUELAN SOLDIERS ON THE “ PonTO6N”? GUARD SHIP. Now for many days the sloop was our home, and the innu- merable gleaming caios of the delta our highways. By day we explored the mangroves in our curzara or dug-out, and by night we slept the dreamless sleep of healthful outdoor life, safe from the persecution of the humming Anopheles out- side our netting on the after deck. When midday heat or sudden rain drove the wild creatures from our view I studied our motley crew and found them a_never-failing source of entertainment. A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. Te, The tally of the crew must begin with Filo, the mate, a huge black creole, speaking Spanish besides his own strange vernacular; then there were two sailors from the Island of Margarita, and Antonio, cook by profession, admitting some Dutch blood, but of unknown extraction and decidedly un- certain disposition. The cook on board a Venezuelan craft is always given the respectful title of Maestro (Mai’stro), so Maestro he always was to us. Maestro as an individual was an interesting psychological study. Although he probably never heard of such a thing as a labor union, yet he was the embodied spirit of one. He declared, in terms that left no possibility of misunderstanding, that he was cook, not sailor, and that he would do nothing but cook. He would cook cheerfully over a stove that smoked like Dante’s Inferno, but when called upon in an emergency to help hoist a sail, he would fly into a violent torrent of angry Spanish. Later when the temper had spent itself he would often go and do what was asked of him. I have seen many high tempers, but never one that quite equalled Maestro’s. There were times when he would draw his huge cutlass or machete on the Captain. Fora long time these were all false alarms, but at last Maestro threatened once too often and so seriously that he was discharged on the spot, and left marooned in a little Indian village with no means of returning to Trinidad. But this was at the end of our voyage. Maestro in his patched and faded shirt, with sleeves rolled to the elbow, still more patched trousers rolled to the knee, bare as to feet, a crownless hat on one side of his head, an ancient and odoriferous pipe hanging from his mouth, a big machete at his side, in the capacity of cook would make the most shiftless housekeeper gasp with horror. I often won- dered why he so persistently declared himself cocinero, not marinero, for he could hardly have been a greater failure in any calling than he was in that of chef. Among the most valued 78 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. of my memories are some mental pictures of Maestro, which, while I live, I can never manage to forget. I often shut my eyes and see him with streaming eyes stirring some fearful concoction over the little stove; or again on his knees mixing dough for the leaden dumplings to be boiled in the pig-tail stew which appeared at every meal. We so often wished we had brought graham flour. White flour does show the dirt so! Still another picture is Maestro Fic. 42 CAPTAIN TRUXILLO PADDLING US UP THE GUARAPICHE past CANO CoLoRADOo. washing the table-cloth. This was a piece of oilcloth, origi- nally white, and Maestro’s method of washing it was to spread it on the deck, pour water over it, dance upon it in his bare feet, to the accompaniment of some weird chant, and finally hang it on the rail to dry! No doubt after this proceeding he felt as self satisfied as the most pompous and well-trained English butler. In justice, I must say that Maestro did make one or two A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. 79 edible dishes; he could boil the native vegetables, yam, tania and kuch-kuch and he made very good cornmeal mush. Then after a long, happy day on the cafios we were always hungry, and happiness and honest hunger overlook a multi- tude of sins. Besides, whatever was lacking in Maestro’s bill of fare was compensated by the dried soups, cocoa, crackers and preserves from our own stores. So we managed one way or another to keep the wolf from the door, or perhaps more appropriately I should say, the crocodile from the com- panionway. As in two weeks the crew had consumed provisions planned by the Captain to last a month, the Captain purchased a hun- dred pounds of beef from a dug-out full of Indians which passed us one day on the river. This Maestro salted plenti- fully and then hung up in the sun to cure. Long strips of it were suspended from the rigging, from the boom, and over the railing, and whole entomological collections buzzed noisily about them. For a few days we felt as though we were living in a butcher’s shop; and a butcher’s shop in a tropical climate is a thing to be avoided. At first we were inclined to resent this impromptu meat market. It was not only disagreeable but it was in the way. Then came the thought —suppose it were fish; and we were so grate- ful to be spared that, that we cheerfully submitted to a sloop draped with strips of meat, as a house is festooned with smilax at Christmas. As long as the larder was low the Captain had known no peace of mind for fear his crew would desert us and the sloop. So the purchase of such a delicacy as meat was a successful piece of strategy. With all their faults, there is among the Venezuelans, as among the Mexicans, a certain chivalry toward women; and so I never felt the least alarm at being left alone on the sloop with the crew, while the Captain and my husband went off up the river. The great dusky Creole mate would put my 80 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. stool in a shady spot, and, figuratively, lay himself at my feet to serve me, and Maestro—even pugnacious Maestro — would weave wonderful baskets for me of the roots of the man- grove; baskets in nests of twelve, each fitting snugly within the other and all gayly dyed with the Venezuelan colors, the Fic. 43. SUNSET IN THE MANGROVE WILDERNESS. pigments being extracted from the leaves or stems of unknown wild plants. The time passed all too quickly with each day spent on the Guarapiche river — a gleaming stage, with a setting of green trees, brilliant flowers and fragrant orchids, and an ever- changing plot with ever-changing actors. Of them all, man was the least important. There were populous villages of A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. 81 Hoatzins and great wandering tribes of Scarlet Ibises and Plovers; Herons, much occupied with their unsocial and taciturn calling as fishermen, stood silent and solitary in secluded pools. With all this wild life the river teemed. It was only with the rising and falling of the tide that man entered upon the scene; and so quietly, so much a part of Fic. 44. THE SILENT SAVAGES. nature, that one hardly felt any difference between him and the forest folk. In a silently, swiftly moving curiara he would glide under the shadows of the overhanging mangroves. Sometimes the curiara would be a merchant vessel, laden with ollas, fruit, etc., with its destination Maturin, many miles away in the interior. Again its only occupant was a fisherman, as silent as the Herons themselves. Like a Heron 82 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. also he would station himself near a shady pool, and sit all day, motionless save for the changing of bait or the pulling in of a fish. With the turning of the tide the line would be drawn up, the fish covered with cool green leaves and the curiara would move away, the bronze figure of its owner skilfully guiding it up the winding river. Occasionally the fisherman was accompanied by his squaw, hardly to be distinguished from him, and in the bow there was often the little naked figure of a child playing with a mite of a tame monkey, or both sound asleep with their arms wrapped about each other. All that these simple folk ask of life is one fish to eat, another with which to buy cassava and a yard of cotton cloth. In the brief tropical twilight we would hastily make prep- arations for the night, spreading our air-beds on deck, hanging over them a white mosquito canopy and putting our electric flashlight and revolver at hand. After the first two nights we had abandoned the cabin, which had added to its other discomforts the fact that all the mosquitoes of the cafio had selected it as their abode. Never were nights more beautiful than those which we spent on the deck of that little sloop, and never was sleep more dreamless and peaceful. In the darkness of early evening, before the moon rose, we would sit on deck munching sugar-cane while the Captain told us many a tale of his young days, when he was the prosperous owner of a schooner twice the size of the “ Josefa Jacinta” and when smuggling brought adventure and yellow gold in abundance. He was full of legend and superstition. He told us of aged men and women, both among the Indians and the Spaniards, who he declared can by a peculiar whistle call together all the snakes in the vicinity and then by incan- tations so hypnotize them that they can he handled with impunity. The owner of a hacienda will sometimes employ one of these charmers to call together the snakes, which can A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. 83 then be killed. The performers themselves, however, will never harm a snake. He told many a story of black magic arts, in which he firmly believed, of sending to one’s ene- mies scourges of rats or deadly diseases or departed spirits to make life unendurable. Fic. 45. GuARAUNO INDIANS COMING TO TRADE AT CANO COLORADO. Finally the crew would roll up in their blankets in the bow, the Captain would disappear beneath his mosquitaro, which would tremble and quake in the moonlight until he lay quiet in his hammock. We would creep beneath our tent of netting to write up the last notes of the day or to listen to the sounds of the night. From the bow would come a low murmur of voices in some weird chanting song until the 84 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. Captain roared out for all hands to go to sleep. But he would not practice what he preached for he always talked himself to sleep, sometimes in English, or in Spanish or again in Creole, while now and then he would mingle all three. By day one would not have suspected Filo, the mate, of being a person of romance; but under the spell of the tropi- cal moonlight he would often tell stories to the crew; stories in which the heroine was always “Muy preciosa, muy joven, muy linda,’ —very charming, very young and very beautiful. She would set difficult tasks for her many lovers, and her favored suitor would be the one who most bravely bore him- self under the tests. I remember one tale to which the crew listened with awe; in which one of the lovers was to lie all night in the cathedral, stiff and still like a corpse; another was to go to the same cathedral on the same night dressed in winding sheets like a ghost; another was to represent the angel of death, while a fourth impersonated the devil; and a fifth was sent as an ordinary man. Of course none of them were to know of the others having been sent by the fair heroine of the story; and of course the fortunate lover was the one who showed no terror and passed the night quietly in the church, returning in the morning to claim his bride. The story had its dramatic situations and Filo made the most of them. Even Maestro was moved to utter a low “Dios mio!” at the description of the entrance of the ghost, the angel of death and finally the devil; at which the poor corpse, who had been shaking with fear through it all, started up and fled in terror. Filo’s story lost nothing in his telling and the superstitious crew went very soberly to rest that night. W—— and I lay, as we so often did, staring wonderingly out into the night, — the marvellous tropical night. It was all like a dream; the shining water of the cafio, the deep, mysterious forest growing down to the water’s edge, the A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. 85 cries of unknown birds and beasts, the impressive southern cross and the extraordinary brilliancy of the moonlight shin- ing down upon the tiny deck of the ‘Josefa Jacinta,” and upon us and the sleeping forms of its dusky crew. We were sometimes awakened in the night by a sudden bright light in our faces. It was Maestro making a fire, in Fic. 46. GUARAUNO SQUAWS AND CHILD wiTH MONKEY. which operation he used alarming quantities of kerosene, to prepare the midnight repast for the crew, who whenever they woke in the night would call loudly “ Maestro — café!” Again the sound of an unusually heavy downpour of trop- ical rain on the tarpaulin overhead would waken us, and I would occasionally discover that my feet were in a puddle of water. A shifting of beds to prevent our being drowned while we slept would invariably result in our feet being 86 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. higher than our heads, and because of the horde of mosqui- toes which found their way in while the beds were being moved, the rest of that night would be sleepless. With the dawn came the roar of the howling monkeys; a dainty Tigana”™ picked its way among the mud-flats; a flock of Hervidores*® — which being translated means ‘‘boilers,” an appellation perhaps suggested by the notes of these black .Cuckoos — bubbled away as cheerily as a bright kettle on a breakfast table. And with these sounds of the dawn all our troubles of the night were forgotten. After weeks of solitude in the mangrove jungles our prow was headed inland and a long night of silent drifting with the tide brought us to the mouth of the Guanoco River. Here the Captain and the unruly crew at dawn had their usual heated argument as to the management of the boat, with the result that they nearly ran her aground — one of the many narrow escapes which had happened so often as to create but little interest on our part. Guanoco was a river of bends, around each one of which the Captain assured us we would see the village. But it was twilight before we turned the final bend and saw picturesque Guanoco at the hour of vespertino — a hill rising steep and blue, with the silvery river at its foot and a cluster of little thatched huts perched one above another on the hillside. It was delightful to feel solid ground under one’s feet again and we could hardly get over our accustomed walk of “three steps and over-board.”’ Here in our wilderness we found an unexpected home. Through the kindness of our cordial friends in Trinidad — Mr. Eugene André and Mr. Ellis Grell — we had letters to the men in charge of the pitch lake at Guanoco and it was to this great lake that the tiny settlement of Guanoco owed its being. As soon as we reached the wharf, a young Venezuelan A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. 87 came on board, introducing himself as Sefior Bernardo Lugo y Escobar, — one of the officials of the Pitch Lake Company, and explaining that Mr. Grell had written him that we might possibly come to Guanoco and that we were to be entertained at the headquarters for as long as we chose to stay. Mr. Lugo was most urgent in his hospitality and I knew well of what the sloop dinner would consist. Maestro and I would hold a perfectly futile consultation in which we would decide upon the only possible menu— funche (which is the Venezuelan name for cornmea! mush), dried pea soup and cocoa. I must explain that the lack of variety in our larder was due to the fact that we had expected to be able to supple- ment our canned goods with fresh fish and game, both of which proved difficult to obtain, the latter because of the impossibility in this vast swamp of ever finding the game after it was shot. The experience taught us the useful lesson which every camper and explorer learns sooner or later, sometimes alas! ‘oo late — never to depend upon the game of the country, but always to plan your provisions as if game did not exist. Then when one gets it, it comes as an unexpected luxury. But to return to my visions of a good dinner in the prepara- tion of which I had no part or responsibility. Perhaps there would also be the luxury of a real bath. I was roused from these attractive reflections by the voice of the Captain politely refusing Mr. Lugo’s invitation for the night, and saying that we would not go ashore until the next day. Whereupon I diplomatically remarked in English, — that Mr. Lugo might not understand, — that I thought Mr. Lugo’s feelings would be hurt if we refused, and as long as we were to go the next day and there was nothing to be gained by spending the night on the sloop, why not gratify him by going at once. And so it came about that in a few minutes more we were at “Headquarters.” As the house was quite invisible from the 88 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. water, we had imagined that we were to go to one of the thatched huts which we had seen from the river. To our surprise, around the base of the hill we found ourselves going up a pretty palm bordered walk which led to a low, massive, fort-like building. Fic. 47. Pitch LAKE, SHOWING FRESHLY DUG PIT FILLED WITH WATER; AN OLDER PIT FILLED WITH SOFT PITCH, BOTH SURROUNDED BY THE HARD SURFACE PITCH. * In the broad open hall were comfortable rocking chairs, in striking contrast to the sloop on which we had taken turns sitting on the one stool which the little craft possessed. In the patio was a table laid for dinner — with a big black Trinidad negro bringing in steaming dishes. There is no hospitality anywhere quite equal to that of the wilderness. Your host does not arrange your visit from the Saturday to the Monday, fitting you in between a multitude A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. 89 of other engagements. A wilderness welcome is as genial and inevitable as the tropical sunshine. Your visit is an event — a mile-stone in the long road of lonely months of exile — months which sometimes lengthen into years. Our ‘very interesting friend Mr. Eugene André of Trinidad told us that on one of his many orchid-hunting expeditions he had chanced to land at a certain God-forsaken little port on the west coast of Colombia. Mr. André had wondered why the fare to this port from Panama should be $30 — while the return passage was $100. The problem was solved after he had seen the port — desolate, barren, inaccessible and fever and insect ridden — one might be induced to pay $30 to get there provided one knew not what manner of place it was. But to get away — one would pay any sum and gladly. So it is that the little coastwise steamboat company calmly demands $100 to return the unfortunate traveller to Panama —and gels it. At this forlorn spot there were stationed two young men, I forget now in what capacity, who for many months had not seen an intelligent human being. Into the empty monotony of their lives, Mr. André appeared. It mattered not to those lonely young men who he was, nor where he came from. His welcome was — “Stay with us. Stay a year — or ten years. We know all about each other. We’ve talked about everything until there is nothing left to say — we even know how much sugar we each like in our tea and who our great grandmothers were, and who we think wrote Shakespeare’s plays; — and we are so bored and so glad to see a new face.” Thus it is that everywhere in the South American wil- derness the English-speaking stranger is made welcome by his kind, and we found Guanoco no exception to this rule. The pretty Spanish greeting is — ‘The house is yours” and during our stay at the Pitch Lake, the headquarters be- came really ours. We were given the best room; the servants fete) OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. were put at our disposal: and best of all we were perfectly free to come and go as we pleased; and with everything done to facilitate our work. All this we owed also to the instruc- tions of Mr. Ellis Grell, who was then financing the Pitch Lake Company and to the kindness of Mr. Lynch and Mr. Stoute, two young West Indians employed by the company. Fic. 48. Diccinc ouT THE BLACK, WAXLIKE PITCH. We were tired that first night at Guanoco. The night before had been a hard one — sailing all night long, with the boom swinging back and forth and making impossible the hanging of our mosquito nets. All through the night the Captain and his crew worked. Down the narrow river the Captain skilfully guided the sloop in the darkness of a moon- less night, following the line of the trees against the sky to mark the channel. His commanding old voice rang from stern to bow, the orders being there repeated by the mate to the sailors who were towing us, and who paused in the A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. gI wild melody which they chanted through that wonderful night, to listen and obey. It was a difficult and dangerous task — the guiding of that sloop down so narrow and winding a river: and even the unruly crew were obedient that night, rendering the homage which in time of danger the ignorant uncon- sciously yield to a superior intelligence. When we wondered at the Captain’s confidence, he replied in his deep voice, “Ah yes! — but I am old here and I know these cafios as Ido my house.” And indeed here the curtain had risen upon his life and here it was likely to fall at the end of the last act. When finally quite exhausted we had laid down upon the deck to sleep, it was to fall into so profound a slumber that the mosquitoes devoured us unmolested, in spite of our head nets which proved insufficient protection. So it was that on that first night at Guanoco we were very tired. I sat lazily rocking in the cool evening breeze, annointing my irritating bites with Tango, a preparation dependent upon faith cure for its healing properties — and listening to the desultory talk of the young men. The con- versation was desultory, however, only so long as the Venezue- lan element of the household was present. On this occasion that element was represented by the young Mr. Lugo who had met us at the wharf. After he had gone out on some errand the story of Pitch Lake was poured into our inter- ested ears. It was a story of intrigue and revolution and treason quite worthy of some medizval court. First there was the passive Venezuelan possession; then the active, en- terprising, money-making reign of the North American; hav- ing as its natural result the jealousy of Castro, his oppres- sion and injustice to the American Company; their rebellion, in which they aided a great revolution against Castro; his revenge being to seize the property and put it in charge of Venezuelans. Then came the departure of the American 92 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. Company, which had done so much to develop the Pitch Lake, followed by the arrival of the Venezuelans appointed by the Government — men who knew just about as much about managing a great Pitch Lake as they did about guiding an aéroplane. We were told of the time long before the advent of the Lugo family—when for weeks it was necessary to live always on the alert, with revolver ever ready for defence; when the very men with whom one sat down at table were capable of attempting to poison the food, in order to free themselves of English-speaking men, who might perhaps witness some ugly deed of treachery or defalcation. This is the very long story in a nutshell. We began then to understand why the house was so fort-like in structure. It had been built to withstand assault. Only a few months before our visit it had been attacked by a party of Revolu- tionists who hoped to find money in the company safe; and five men had been killed and several injured. This thrilling tale was told in the emotionless matter-of- fact way in which one might describe the moves in a game of chess. From the moment our sloop sailed out of the harbor of Port of Spain the memory of the old familiar every-day world had seemed to grow dimmer and dimmer. Was it possible that there really was such a place as New York City, with its clanging street-cars, its trains and subways and elevated roads thronged with people, en masse all as much alike as an army of ants? At that very hour the New York Theatres were pouring their gay crowds into the brilliantly lighted streets. How far away it all seemed, down there in the great primeval forest of another continent! We walked out under the stars to the edge of the forest, black and mysterious, teeming with the hidden life, which we were so eager to study. Our world, for the present, was this forest wilder- ness, stretching unbroken for mile upon mile, with only the A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. 93 twinkling lights of Guanoco to remind us of human habita- tions. I dreamed that night of being stabbed in the back by a howling monkey, while the safe of the Pitch Lake Company was broken into by a band of shrieking Macaws! On the morning after our arrival at Guanoco we sorrowfully said good-by to the “Josefa Jacinta.” As we watched her sail away we consoled ourselves by planning another and a longer trip on her — a trip which never took place. Looking back after almost two years I realize that life can bring me Fic. 49. LoapInc PircH ON THE HAND Cars. few experiences more full of interest and charm than those days on a little Venezuelan sloop exploring the mysterious untrodden mangroves! ‘How could you enjoy it?”? I am often asked: but the trifling discomforts were all in the day’s work and more than compensated by the beauty and free- dom and wonder of it all. They served to make us know that it was not all a dream. Our days at Guanoco began early and were full to over- flowing of interest and of work. In the heat of midday we pressed flowers, skinned birds and wrote up our journals, 94 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. but in spite of being so busy, we found time to get a little into the atmosphere of the human life. Here is the daily program at the lake of pitch, — this little outpost of humanity, deep hidden in the tropical jungle. At daybreak the group of sheds and thatched huts gives up a horde of Trinidadian negroes; great black fellows, giants in strength, children in mind. Amid a perfect medley of excitement and uproar, breakfast is prepared. We hear sounds which must mean at least the violent death of several, and as one listens to the shrieks and groans, the imagi- nation easily supplies the terrible blows and struggles. But a closer look only shows one of these great children down on his knees, calling on everything which occurs to him or enters his vision to witness that he did noé steal the sixpence from Napoleon, of which some one has accused him, perhaps in jest. Yet all this is calmness compared to the later rush for the best cars to use in the day’s work. It would delight a Sopho- more’s heart to see the mélée. But somehow all is straight- ened out and off go the hand trucks, crawling along the rickety rails out over the lake, like beads sliding along a string. Here a car has reached the end of the line. The negro selects a place fairly clear of vegetation, takes his broad adze, and shears away the upper few inches of roots and mould. Then with deep swift strokes he outlines a big chunk of the shiny black gum, cuts it loose, and carries it on his head to his car. So malleable is the pitch that by the time he has half filled the little iron truck the pitch has settled down and filled all interstices. He trundles back the car and dumps it into one of the larger wooden trucks which will take it to Guanoco. He now receives a check which is redeemable for fifteen cents and the first link in the commercialization of the pitch is finished. Along the wavering line of tem- porary rails over which the hand-cars are pushed back and A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. 95 forth, are dozens of grave-like holes. Those nearer the rail- road end are smooth-edged and filled with soft pitch on which as yet no vegetation has taken root. Farther along they are filled with water, and still farther we find them in the process of being excavated. Fic. 50. MANGROVE WILDERNESS FROM THE Hich Lanp aT GUANOCO. The men dig down until they have reached a depth of five or six feet, and then start in a new place. The hole is filled by the first rain; water-bugs fly to the little pool, frogs lay their eggs in it, queer fish wriggle their way to it and for a brief space it supports a considerable aquatic life. Then new soft pitch begins to ooze up and in a few more weeks the plug of viscid black gum has reached the level of the ground and the scar is soon healed over by a thin growth of grass. In the rainy season the holes fill at once with water, and indeed the whole plain is immersed to the depth of 96 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. a foot or more; then the men have to work up to their waists in water, chopping beneath the surface, prying the pieces loose with their toes and tearing the chunks off by taking long breaths and reaching far down for a few seconds at a time. When we cross our asphalt streets and smell the tarry odor and feel its softness under a mid-summer’s sun, let us think of the strange lake in the tropical wilderness. The table talk at ‘‘ Headquarters,” was often most amus- ing. Torrents of Spanish eloquence and gesticulations kept our English ears ever on the alert to follow the meaning, and our sense of humor ever under strict control to pre- serve well-bred gravity when such statements were made as “Venezuela leads not only all the South American coun- tries, but all those of North America as well, in literature, art, science and commerce. When our. General Blank went to New York the greatest ovation ever paid any general in the world was given him. New York remained amazed! ”’ Once only did I look amused and I have never quite recovered from my mortification at thus disgracing myself. Whatever the faults of the Spaniard may be, he never smiles when he is not intended to; not even at the laughable mis- takes which we foreigners make when we are learning his beautiful language. I try to say in extenuation of my unseemly mirth that the Spaniard has no sense of humor and that we should very much prefer having him laugh at our mistakes and letting us correct them. But all to no pur- pose. I know that I did not behave like a well conducted Venezolana, and nothing can alter that fact. The three Venezuelans had been put in charge of the Pitch Lake,—because their ‘“ Sister’s husband’s niece” had power in the court of Castro. Among their regular duties they included singing airs from the operas, reading 97 ZUELA. E N NCES IN VE RIE A WOMAN’S EXPE “AONV V 98 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. Don Quixote and the Caracas newspapers and playing dominos. They had provided themselves with elaborate costumes for the réle; they carried big revolvers and wore huge green and white cork helmets, khaki riding clothes, puttees, spurs, and carried riding whips. There was not a horse within fifty miles! No horse, even had there been one, could penetrate the tiny forest trails about Guanoco. In the dancing sunlight and shadows and the orchid- fragrant air it was hard to picture spilt blood and intrigue and treachery, and harder still to prophesy the sad times that were to come upon Guanoco. Yet while we were there the air teemed with revolutionary rumors. The Jefe civil, as the chief magistrate was called, was off day after day investiga- ting first one suspicion and then another, returning utterly spent with the exhaustion of unresting days and nights upon the trail. Revolutionists had attempted to land guns on the near-by coast. There had been a skirmish and several men had been killed. All the available guns and ammunition were gotten together and every night the doors were barred securely; for what the revolutionists chiefly needed was money, and should there be an uprising in northeastern Venezuela, the Pitch Lake head- quarters would be the first point of attack. It was in charge of Castro sympathizers, there might be large sums of money in the Company’s safe and it was practically unprotected. In the meantime diplomatic relations between our United States and Venezuela had been severed and one morning a United States battleship was discovered lying quietly in the harbor of La Guayra. The numbers of Ja Constitucional — a month old when they reached us — were beginning to talk of war and to boast of the ease with which Venezuela would erase the United States of America from the face of the globe. Bitter things were said about the sister republic in A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. 99 the north. And there we were living on the bone of con- tention itself. It was about this time that I began to see the advisability of being more than ordinarily civil; and so it happened eae was led into playing cards for the first and only time for money and that on a Sunday! We had been working almost incessantly and I had begun to feel that, even if it was to Mr. Grell that we were indebted for the hospitality, it was not quite nice for us to appear only at ‘‘ feeding time,” par- ticularly as our long days out of doors gave us such appalling appetites. So on this occasion when I was asked to make a fourth at cards, I saw no way out of it. Moreover, the battle- ship lay in the harbor of La Guayra, and my countrymen were in sad disfavor in Venezuela. W—— had ignominiously deserted and gone to bed, so there was only one sleepy little woman left to uphold the honor of a great nation! The game was ‘‘ Siete y media,’ —“‘ seven and a half.” I forget the rules now. I only remember that they seemed very intricate as explained to me in Spanish. Fortunately for me, the stakes were low, for I steadily lost all the time. ‘‘ Grano ) por grano la gallina come,” quoted Mr. Lugo, — “ grain by grain the hen eats.” Later he remarked how he hated to win from the sefiorita — but the sefiorita observed that he hated it much as the famous walrus wept for the oysters while — “« .. . he sorted out Those of the largest size, Holding his pocket-handkerchief Before his streaming eyes.” I was wofully tired and sleepy. I did not at all know the etiquette of gambling! And I thought the loser must not be a ‘quitter’ — even if the extent of her losses was only “‘ dos reales,” or twenty-five cents. So I played on until at mid- night the game was declared over. 100 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. It is well that virtue is its own reward, as it has no other, for I was told the next morning by a husband who had had a perfectly good night’s sleep — that I was a very foolish person indeed to sit up playing cards with those men, and that the loser could always stop: it was the winner who must not propose it. Fic. 52. A PALM-sHEATH ROCKING Toy. The negroes from the Pitch Lake always came down on Saturday nights and serenaded us with wild Creole airs, and at the sound of the quaterns and violins huge hairy tarantulas would come forth from their hiding-places in our rooms and creep briskly here and there over walls and floor. We were greatly interested in this effect of the vibrations of sound, but we never bothered the great creatures in their strange “‘ taren- A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. IOI telles,’ and they paid no attention to us. The venomous effect of the bites of all these eight or hundred-legged beings is greatly exaggerated, and there is absolutely no serious dan- ger to a healthy person with good red blood in his veins; in some of the half-starved, rum-drinking natives the scratch of a pin would induce blood-poisoning. Labor was easily secured in Guanoco. The morning after our arrival we expressed a wish to employ a boy to act as attendant, carrying camera, gun, butterfly net, etc., when we went on our long tramps. One of the young men at head- quarters went to the door and called “ muchacho,” and at once a small boy appeared. I should have judged his age to be between eleven and twelve; but he himself did not know. He said his grandmother was “ keeping his age.”” A charming idea is that Venezuelan custom of having some responsible member of the family keep all the ages. Think of being able to say truthfully that you really do not know how old you are! But then a Venezuelan woman never confesses to more than twenty-seven, no matter what may have been the flight of time. Our small servant’s name proved to be Maximiliano Ro- mero, and with supreme self possession, boldly spitting to the right and left, he professed himself willing to enter our service. Like a true Venezuelan he used expectoration to punctuate all his remarks. What a quaint little figure he was, topped by a huge straw hat with a high peaked crown; the hat the work of the little brown hands of Max himself, for he was a hat- maker by profession. His face was alert but very grave. He rarely smiled, but when he did it was in no half-hearted way, but with an abandon of childish glee. I found myself devoting a good deal of valuable time to trying to bring into being that charming smile of Maximiliano’s. One never knew just what would touch the right chord. Once he went off into gales of merriment at the escape of a lizard which we 102 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. were trying to photograph. He always saw the funny side of our mishaps. Max showed plainly in what esteem he held naturalists. The first day he went out with us he was neatly dressed in dark blue jeans. When he appeared on the second morning we did not recognize him. A small ragamuffin stood before us, stamping like a pony to drive away the flies, which hovered Fic. 53. SHEATH IN FIG. 52, COVERING THE FLOWER OF A PALM. about his ankles. His clothes were a mass of rags — it was impossible to say what had been the original color or mate- rial. Max had taken our measure and decided that people who tramped through the “bush” as we did were not worthy of anything better than rags. Sometimes in the jungle we would meet Indian women who, living far in the interior, were on their way to Guanoco to buy machetes, fish-hooks and other articles of civilization. A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. 103 They would always stop and make friends with us, with child- like curiosity asking where we came from, and why we wanted birds and lizards and butterflies, and murmuring the words dear to every woman’s heart in all lands, “ Que joven- cia!” which literally translated is ‘‘ What a young little thing!”’ Very simple-hearted are these poor Indian women and so hard are their lives that at a very early age do they cease to be jovencita. We would often meet the wandering tribes of Guarauno Indians, who live nearly always upon the march, carrying all their worldly possessions upon their backs and sleeping wherever night happens to find them. They very rarely knew even a word of Spanish and shunned any intercourse with strangers, scorning the inventions of civilization and using the poisoned arrows of their ancestors. One Sunday morning one of the laborers at the near-by Pitch Lake, bearing the pious name of José de Jesus Zamoro, came into headquarters to invite us to a dance that afternoon at his house. The house of Zamoro had nothing particularly to recommend it as a ballroom; for the floor was of dirt, the ceiling low and the walls windowless. But it was crowded; the air stifling and the dancers dripping with perspiration. The music was wild and strange, the man who shook the maracas — an instrument consisting of two gourds filled with dried seeds which is shaken in time to the music — often breaking into a weird song, making up the words as he went along, with some joke about each dancer. As the songster’s zeal waxed high he described himself as being so great that ‘where he stood the earth trembled.” Between dances the ladies’ last partners were supposed to take them into the next room where drinks were for sale. This was the explanation of Zamoro’s zeal for dances: music and dance hall were free, but a substantial profit came from the drinks. 104 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. The ball gowns had but one beauty — that of originality. There was always an unfortunate hiatus between bodices and skirts, which was partly concealed by the long straight black hair which hung down the backs of the women. The shoes were in a piteous condition, never the right size, very seldom mates and not infrequently both were for the same foot. But all the skirts had trains and all ears bore ear-rings. We were told that these women often danced all day and all night, until they became perfectly dazed, their feet moving mechanically in time to the music of the national dance — the joropa, which is a cross between a clog dance and a waltz. We saw dancing the women whose curiara had so narrowly escaped a fatal collision with our sloop in the Guarapiche. The Captain had said they were leaving Maturin ‘‘to operate some speculation in Guanoco — perhaps even to find hus- bands.”’ And here among so many men, for the population of Guanoco was chiefly composed of men employed at the lake, surely there was hope, even for adventuresses so black and uncouth as these. Here also we met one of Guanoco’s most amusing characters, a big black Trinidad negro. He was full of the superiority of one who had seen the world; for he had once been to England as stateroom steward on one of the big steamers. He now dropped his h’s, called his wife “Yady Mackay” and on Sundays wore a monocle. It was twilight as we walked home through the little settle- ment. At one of the huts two little naked babies were playing “rock-a-by” in the great curved sheaths which protect the blossom of the moriche, or eta palm. At another a child came out and sang a little Spanish song for us — all about her sins and the confession she must make to the priest, the refrain being “Mz penetencia! mi penetencia”! and she sang it with her small hands clasped and her head devoutly bowed. A few coins made the wee penitent superlatively happy. Her mother must have taught her the song, for in Guanoco there A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. 105 Fis. 54. PRIESTLEss CHAPEL aT GUANOCO. 106 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. was no priest, no school, no doctor. The two young West Indians at headquarters (neither much more than twenty years old) officiated at all funerals, being Catholic or Protes- tant, in Spanish or English, as the case demanded. They prescribed for all diseases, from the prevalent fever to the woman who was suffering greatly but could give no more definite description of her trouble than that she had a “pain that walked.” I could never understand the fever so common at Guanoco: for I never knew a place more free from mosquitoes and from insects of every description. We were continually in the sun and often in the rain, yet we both kept in perfect health. The women of the village had converted a small open shed into a chapel, with an altar, on which were all the offerings they could make, a few candles, some bits of gilt paper and tinsel, a rude wooden cross and a wretched little chromo of the Virgin. Here, as we passed, we saw the women kneeling, for where else could they take their troubles! At last our Venezuelan experiences were a thing of the past, and we were homeward bound, leaving behind us the dear delightful never-know-what’s-going-to-happen life; and realiz- ing, as our ship cut her way through the countless ‘‘knots”’ of dashing waves, that as Maximiliano had said with a shake of his head, when we laughingly asked him if he did not want to go with us, “esta tan léjos ”’ — it is so far! * * * * * * Ey Much has happened at Guanoco since the days of our visit. Very soon after our departure, Castro fearing the smoul- dering revolutionary plots in Trinidad, ordered all the ports of eastern Venezucla closed. Later came the deadly bubonic plague sealing for many months all the ports of the unfortu- nate country. Then indeed trouble descended upon poor little Guanoco. It was an essentially non-agricultural part A WOMAN’S EXPERIENCES IN VENEZUELA. 107 of the country. The one industry had been the digging of pitch, the company’s boat plying between Guanoco and Trini- dad having brought all necessary supplies. Now with all communication cut off the people were in a piteous condition. In the revolution of the Wheel of Fate — which whirls so rapidly in Venezuela, — the Lugo family had been deposed and a new Venezuelan administrator appointed in their Fic. 55. Guarauno INDIAN PAPoosE. place. Having known the Lugos, I like to think that they would have been less heartless than their successor, who, so the report goes, sold what supplies there were to the starving people at cruelly exorbitant prices. No matter how much one may love Nature, one cannot help feeling how unmoved she is in the face of suffering. Human beings might starve and sicken and die at Guanoco, but the sunshine would be just as warm and glowing and the wind in the palm trees just as musical as ever. 108 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. With the cutting off of communication between Venezuela and Trinidad, Captain Truxillo’s occupation was gone. The “ Josefa Jacinta’ no longer plied busily back and forth between Port of Spain and Maturin, driving a brisk trade in hammocks, groceries and hides; and so at last she passed from the possession of Captain Truxillo to that of some more prosperous trader who could afford to wait for the reopening of commerce. For a year our old Captain watched his little vessel guided out of the harbor of Port of Spain, with a strange hand at the helm, and a strange voice in command. Then one day she sailed away never to return — but to be run aground and lost on a desolate and lonely part of the Venezuelan coast. What became of her new Captain and crew we never heard. We knew only that the “ Josefa Jacinta” was lost, and that we could never sail her again, except on dream cafios in a phantom wilderness. PART II OUR SECOND SEARCH BRITISH GUIANA 109 ‘VNVIO) HSILIYG OLNI SNOILIGAIXY ATVAT, UNO JO avy ‘9S “OLT HH AMWAY OL NOILIGIdX] GUIHL 0000 AWAY OL NOILIGAdX 3 GNOIIS xxxXX QIYOOH OL NOIIGIdX] LSYIS pe cas NS With yyyuve VIANZANAA p. 110 CHAPTER IV. GEORGETOWN. NOTHER year has slipped past and again we are southward bound, toward that Mecca — the tropics —- which never ceases to call us. The time is the fifteenth of February, 1909; the place, the Royal Dutch Mail Steamship “ Coppename.” Nine days out from New York at three o’clock in the morning we are roused suddenly from sleep by a gentle roaring in our ears. When we have gained partial conscious- ness we realize it is the basso-profundo whisper of good Cap- tain Haasnoot summoning us to the bridge. We ask no questions for we have learned that the voice of the genial Dutchman means something worth while, whether it is raised in a thunderous roar of ‘“‘ Hofmeister!’’ or as now in gentler accents. Wrapped in flapping blankets, we climb the steep ladder to the bridge, there to enjoy for half an hour a most wonderful display of phosphorescence — even excelling that often visible in the Bay of Fundy. The Captain in all his world-wide sea-faring has never seen anything to equal it. We are only a short distance off the shore of British Guiana and the ocean is thick with sediment from the rivers. The sky is overcast and no light comes from the moon and stars, and yet the whole sea is plainly visible. The horizon glows with a dull, yellow flare against the jet black sky, and the myriad foam-caps shimmer as with brighter flames. The quenching of these in the opaque water gives a vivid impression of an enormous conflagration half hidden behind billows of smoke. IIr 112 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. At day-break Georgetown is in sight — a low, flat line of wharfs, with a background of galvanized tin roofs and tall bending palm trees. Never was a fairyland set in so prosaic a frame! With what mingled feelings our little ship’s family lean on the rail and scan the shore! To some the thought comes of the miracles of yellow gold and precious stones hidden deep beneath the primitive forests; to other sea-weary travellers the stability of the shore appeals most; while we two watch for the first hint of bird life. Our desire is gratified before that of any of the others, for over the water there comes the first morning call of the great yellow Tyrant '— Kis-ka-dee! bringing a hundred memories of the tropics. As we steam slowly up to the wharf a small flock of Gray- breasted Martins” twitters above our heads, a Black Vulture*! swings over the tin roofs, the jubilant song of a Guiana House Wren™ reaches our ear, and our Second Search has begun. To those who seek for wildernesses there is not much of interest in Georgetown, save the museum and the botanical garden. Yet there is no doubt that the city is one of the most attractive in the tropics, and when the inhabitants are aroused to a sense of the opportunities which they are throw- ing away, it will become a famous tourist resort; awakening the country to new life and bringing shekels to the coffers of its merchants. Hotels and mosquitoes are the two keys to the situation —the one to be acquired, the other banished. When this is done, the many popular winter resorts will be hard put to it to retain their lucrative migrants from the North. The inhabitants of Georgetown have one regrettable failing— an unreasoning fear and dread of their own country. They cling to their narrow strip of coastal territory, where they work and play, live and die, many of them without ever having been five miles away GEORGETOWN. 113 from the sea. The majority of the inhabitants of French Guiana are convicts, chained for life to their prisons; here the good people of British Guiana bind themselves with imaginary bonds and picture their wonderful land as teem- ing with serpents and heaven-knows-what other terrors. Fic. 57. STREET IN GEORGETOWN. Another unfortunate failing is the firm conviction of some of the influential citizens that there is no truth in the mosquito theory as a cause of malaria and yellow fever. A distinguished English scientist, recently sent to inves- tigate yellow fever in Barbados and British Guiana, was holding up as an example to the citizens of Georgetown the Barbadian custom of keeping fishes in their water cisterns; explaining that the fishes devoured the mosquito larve and 114 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. thus kept down the number of mosquitoes. A Barbadian who chanced to be in the audience interrupted the scientist by saying, ‘Oh, but that is not the reason they put fishes in the cisterns. It is to make sure the water has not been poisoned by some enemy ’’! Until the mosquito is exterminated in Georgetown the tourist will prefer to go elsewhere, even though that be to a less beautiful spot. Fic. 58. KisKADEE TYRANT FLYCATCHER. We were advised to spend all our time in Georgetown, where we might drink pink swizzles (than which no worse medicine exists!) or read in the cool library, or study the natural history of the country impaled on pins or stuffed with cotton (both of which are improving occupations but can be done quite as well in New York). Every moment spent in streets of human making seemed sacrilege when the real wilderness — the wilderness of Waterton, of Schomburgk and of im Thurn — beckoned to us just beyond. GEORGETOWN. [1s Armed with proper letters of introduction and travelling in the name of science, one is treated with all courtesy by Guiana officials. The customs give no trouble, save that one pays a deposit of twelve per cent on cameras, guns and cartridges. We were glad to find that the most difficult privilege to obtain is a permit to collect birds, and the very stringent laws in this respect are an honor to the Governor and his colonial officials.* Thanks to the absence of the plume and general millinery hunter, the game hog and the wholesale collector, birds are abundant and tame. We were in the colony just two months and shot only about one hundred specimens, all of which were secured because of some special * In looking over the laws of the colony I found the following Wild Birds’ Protection Ordinance. I have added the explanatory names in parentheses. (C. W. B.) List of Wild Birds absolutely protected. Black Witch (Ani) Ground Dove Quw’est-ce quil dit (Kiskadee) Campanero (Bell Bird) —Jacamar Shrike Carrion Crow (Vulture) Hawk Sun Bird (Sun Bittern) Cassique Heron Sparrow Cock-of-the-Rock Hummingbird Swallow Cotinga : Hutu (Motmot) Tanager Crane (Heron) Kingfisher Thrush Creeper (Woodhewer) Kite Toucan Egret Macaw Trogan Flycatcher Manakin Troupial Gauldin (Heron) Martin Woodpecker Goatsucker Owl Wren Grass Bird Parroquet Vulture List of Wild Birds protected from April rst to Sept rst. Bittern Hanaqua (Chachalaca) Plover Curlew Maam (Tinamou) Powis (Curassow) Curri-curri (Scarlet Ibis) Maroudi (Guan) Quail Douraquara (Partridge) Negro-cop (Jabiru) Snipe Dove (otherthanGround Parrot Spur-wing (Jacana) Ibis Dove) Pigeon Trumpet-bird Wild Duck 116 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. interest. We brought home some two hundred and eighty live birds which are now housed in the New York Zoological Park. Once off the single wharf-lined, business street of George- town, one is instantly struck by the beauty of the place. Green trees, flowering vines and shrubs are everywhere, half hiding the ugly, tropical architecture. The streets are all wide, some with gravel walks down the centre, shaded with the graceful saman trees; others with central trenches filled with the beautiful Victoria regia — here a native. Two species of big Tyrant Flycatchers * ' are the Eng- lish Sparrows of the city and White-breasted- Robins,’ Palm “* and Silver-beak “° Tanagers perch on the limbs of trees at one’s very window. Although we are anxious to start on our first expedition into the “bush,” as the primeval forests of the interior are called, yet a week passes very pleasantly in the city itself. The street life is a passing pageant, full of interest and of the charm of novelty for the Northerner. Carriages roll past in which sit very correctly dressed and typical English women; still others are filled with creoles, some to all appear- ances perfectly white, others in which the infusion of negro blood is very apparent. Many of the creole women have a certain languid beauty and a good deal of grace and self- possession. The passing of the liveried carriage of the Governor causes a ripple of excitement. It is five o’clock, the fashionable hour for driving, and all these equipages are bound for the sea-wall, where the occupants sit and listen to an excellent band, enjoy the sea breeze and chat with their neighbors about the all-important happenings of the social set of Georgetown; while the pale-faced children dig in the sand or run shrieking with glee from an incoming wave, just as do their rosy contemporaries of the North. GEORGETOWN. 117 Another picture is the coolie in his loose, white garments and turban and his sinewy, bare, brown legs. He gazes at you as calmly and as unmoved as though you were not. Even the lowest coolie bears about him this unconscious dig- nity of an ancient race and a civilization that was old when we were but beginning. Fic. 59. Coote WomMaAN AND NEGRESS. The coolie women make a vivid spot of color in our pageant — like some glowing tropical flower. Many of them are beautiful in feature and all are graceful in bearing. There never were women who so perfectly understood the art of walking. They swing along erect and lithe with a springing step and perfect coordination of every muscle. Their heavy bracelets and anklets tinkle musically as they move; their gay red and yellow and blue scarfs flutter in the 118 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. breeze. The poise of their bodies reflects the perfect calm and repose of their smooth, brown faces. What an antithesis they are to the ponderous old black women who are striding along, with bedraggled skirts gath- ered up in a roll around their massive waists. They are untidy and slatternly in dress, heavy and awkward in move- ment in comparison with the straight, slim, coolie women. They are full of loud laughter and talk and song. At every street corner they gather in friendly, jovial groups, while the coolie women are strangely silent and reserved. No wonder that these two races so hate and scorn one another, for in temperament they are as far apart as the poles! The British Guiana blacks were to us an unending source of interest and amusement. They were always courteous and kindly and most original. Even when swearing at each other their manner was always polite and each anathema ended with a civil “Suh!” Their dialect was at first very difficult to understand, but when our ears became familiar with it we found it singularly attractive. All the a’s are broad, even in such words as bad and man; while the intona- tion is indescribable, the verbs in a sentence being always emphasized and given a slight rising inflection, as for ex- ample, “I have been to Berbice.” An interrogation is often not at all indicated by the form of a question, but merely by the rising inflection, as — “These are nice?”’ The general effect of their speech is a very musical and distinctive intona- tion. Always the irrepressible spirit of the black rises serenely above all the vicissitudes of life. A black woman from Arakaka was sentenced to a month in jail. Upon her return she was welcomed by a crowd of friends, all eager to hear something of that mysterious jail, to which none of them were sure they might not some day go. To their questions “How was it? how was it?” the heroine of the occasion GEORGETOWN. 119 replied with great dignity, “Me chile, dey see I was a lady an’ dey didn’ give me de same work as de other prisoners.” Later, on a trip down the river, the same woman, meeting the magistrate who had sentenced her, proudly remarked, “Now I travel by meself ”’; her only previous experience in travelling having been under the escort of the police! Many of the blacks have far advanced cases of elephan- tiasis. In a five minutes’ walk one will see a half dozen examples of this deadly disease; but it takes more than cle- phantiasis or jail to sadden the volatile spirits of the negro! Fic. 60. THE GEORGETOWN SEA-WALL. Cosmopolitan as is the street pageant of Georgetown, it is, however, not so much so as that of Port of Spain. The coolies are even more numerous there than here, and in addition to the same sort of English and negro life, there is also an American, Spanish and French element. One hears on all sides the pretty French patois, and the musical Spanish of the South American is a constant delight. This large Spanish and French population make Port of Spain a decidedly Catholic city, and priests and nuns in unfamiliar garbs are always a part of the picture. 120 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. It is very hard for us Northerners to realize that the course of a tropical day is much the same the year around. Here is a Georgetown day as we found it in February. At 5.30 a.m. it is still dark and the only sound is an occasional raucous crow from chanticleer. Soon a subdued murmur of sound is heard and this remains unchanged in volume for some time. Then the sunrise gun booms in the distance; a Kiskadee shrieks just outside our window; a score of others answer him; church chimes ring out; noisy coolie carts rattle past; negroes sing, dogs bark; an excellent brass band strikes up a two-step and amid all this pandemonium of sound the sun literally leaps above the horizon and instantly fills the world with brilliant color. The scene changes like magic; there is no dawn or dusk, night gives place to day without intermission. The temperature morning and evening is about 76°. Woven amid all the harsh cries of Kiskadees and Tana- gers is heard the sweet warbling of the little House Wrens, reminding us of our singers of the North, and bubbling over with the same crisp, vocal vitality which we hear in early Spring in our own country. Like the morning, the tropical day itself is one of extremes. The morning dawns fresh and bracing; until nine o’clock one walks briskly, breathes deeply and can hardly realize that he is at sea-level within seven degrees of the equator. It is April and May in the calendar of one’s feelings. Then for an hour or two June reigns, and finally from eleven to five o’clock in the afternoon it is hot, sultry August. In the shade, however, it is always comfortable. From three o’clock on we experi- ence the coolness of October and until darkness shuts sud- denly down about half-past six —like the snuffing out of a candle — the temperature is perfect. The nights are de- lightfully cool. Mosquitoes are bad only in the houses and at night one’s net is a protection. The humidity is high but GEORGETOWN. 121 it is far more bearable than that of a summer in New York City, contrary to our usual idea of the tropics. The manner of rain in the tropics is peculiar: the atmos- phere may be ablaze with brilliant sunshine, when a slight haze appears in the air and suddenly one realizes that a fine gentle rain is falling. This may cease as imperceptibly as it began, or increase to a terrific downpour — to give place perhaps a few minutes later to the clear tropic glare again. Before taking leave of Georgetown we must mention the three chief points of attraction. The sea-wall comes first and, as we have said, a most pleasant custom of the natives is to drive there in late afternoon and sit in their carriages. The concrete break-water is of vital importance to the town itself as a portion of the streets are below sea-level. The proad summit forms a mile or more of promenade, with a sandy beach on one side, lapped with waves which strive ever to break, but cannot because of the thick sediment which they hold in suspense. On the other side a double row of tall, graceful palms adds a touch of tropical beauty. The residences near the sea-wall are the coolest and most pleasant in the town and are practically free from mosquitoes. We spent more than one delightful evening in the garden at Kitty Villa as the guests of our charming American friends, Mr. and Mrs. Howell. From the open, veranda-like rooms one may watch the Yellow Orioles,” the Brown-breasted Pygmy Grosbeaks,’” the Anis and Kiskadees going to roost. Just before dusk scores of the small Black Vultures ** appear, flying singly, or in twos and threes low over the trees and palms westward to some general roost. About this time the bats and the lightning bugs arrive, large numbers of very tiny bats hawking about after insects, and several large fruit-eaters with wings spreading almost two feet across. These haunt the fruit-laden sapadillo trees, and as the method of feeding of 122 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. these curious creatures does not seem to be generally known we watch it with interest. One of the big fellows flits here and there, nipping first one fruit and then another. At last when a sweet or fully ripe one is found, the bat swoops up to it, alights head downward, and half enveloping it with his wings, bites away frantically for two or three seconds and then dashes off. This is repeated until darkness settles down, but never does the wary bat linger over his feast. In the north the sight of a single bat darting along on its eccentric way is not uncommon, but here we were soon to become accustomed to the sight of scores, some pursuing insects, or feeding on fruits, or waiting and watching for a chance to drink the blood of men and animals. More than twenty-five species have been found here within a few miles of the coast. Small Owls and nocturnal insectivorous birds are somewhat rare, and thus the bats have few foes and little competition in their aérial life. Late in the evening as we drive slowly homeward from the sea-wall we discover another interesting microcosm of the tropics. The road is well lighted with arc-lamps — sources of irresistible attraction to numberless insects, many of which drop stunned to the earth beneath. Some genius among the Georgetown toads has discovered this fact and passed the word along, until now one finds a circle of expectant amphib- ians squatted beneath each arc-light, with eyes and hopes lifted to the shining globe overhead. Now and then an unfor- tunate insect falls within the magic circle, when a toad leaps lazily forward and devours the morsel with one lightning- like flick of the tongue. Many of these toads (Bufo agua) are enormous fellows, a good hatful, standing full eight inches from their pudgy toes to their staring eyes, all comical, dignified, fat and sluggish, barely hopping aside in time to avoid the horse and carriage. GEORGETOWN. 123 To a visiting naturalist the museum is the place of greatest interest, and although the ani- mals and birds are faded and poorly mounted, yet they are representative of the fauna of the country and are hence of great value in accustoming one’s eyes to the strange forms of life. The present Curator, Mr. James Rodway, did everything in his power to aid us, and we are in- debted to him for many kind- nesses. Although he is primarily a botanist, entomology, occupies and the supply of species of Fic. 61. his attention at present, the various orders of insects living in this region seems well-nigh inexhaustible. Mr. Rodway is a good example of the healthfulness of British Guiana, for he has lived there thirty-nine years and has been ill only one day. He accounts for this by his teeto- talism, but perhaps the next person we mect will inform us that a half dozen swizzles a day are absolutely necessary to keep the breath of life within the body! The Botanical Gardens, un- der the able direction of Prof. J. B. Harrison, are a_ great credit to the colony. With beautiful vistas of palms and ornamental shrubs they com- bine smooth expanses of green lawns — a rare feature in a tropical landscape. Ponds and ditches are filled with Victoria regia and lotus, save one where OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. 124 “SNadUVD) IVOINVLOG FHL NI VIOGY VINOLIA *€9 ‘oI GEORGETOWN. 125 a number of manatees keep the aquatic vegetation cropped close. A wonderful palm was in blossom at the time of our visit —a Taliput with a mass of bloom twelve fect in height which had begun to flower the month before. Governor Hodgson and Prof. Harrison gave us the free- dom of the garden and placed at our disposal five circular aviaries which proved of inestimable value in housing the living birds which we were able to secure. Here Mr. Lee S. Crandall, our assistant, made his trapping headquarters after our return from our first inland expedition and here we spent many afternoons among the fields and by- paths. We soon found that bird-trapping in the tropics is a task beset by many difficulties. The extreme heat between the hours of ten and four o’clock make even the “tackiest” lime nearly as thin as water, and hardly capable of holding even the diminutive “doctor-bird” as the natives call the Hummingbirds. The call-birds, which are confined in very small cages, or cribs, cannot endure the high temperature under these conditions, and soon succumb if left out in the sun. Operations, therefore, must be confined to the few hours immediately following sunrise, and preceding sunset. Another feature, very trying to the bird-catcher, is the habit which most of the birds have of going singly or in pairs. A few of the Icterine birds, such as the Yellow-headed Black- bird,** Cowbird,’* Little Boat-tailed Grackle,“’ and most of the Cassiques, feed usually in flocks, sometimes of great size. In the deep bush of the interior it is the habit of birds of many species to search together for food, following a set route, and keeping closely to their time schedule. But ordi- nary call-birds and “set-ups” are not for these. This gregarious habit among widely varying birds is, however, at times, a great aid to the trapper. A cage con- OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. 126 ‘WOSSOTG NI SALOT ‘FQ “Oly ase) GEORGETOWN. 127 taining a Yellow-bellied Calliste *’ was one day placed in a tree about twenty feet high, and limed twigs arranged on neighboring branches. In two hours in the morning, two specimens of the same species, three Blue Tanagers,’™ two Black-faced Callistes,“! two Toua-touas or Brown- breasted Pygmy Grosbeaks,'!” and one Yellow Oriole *” were taken. The various species of Tanagers and Orioles are much more gregarious in feeding habits than the Finches, hence the variety caught. The Toua-touas were purely accidental visitors. ‘The Finches can rarely be taken by a call-bird not of the same species. The black or coolie boy who makes his living at catching birds at ‘“‘tuppence” each, sets out at daylight with his two or three call-birds in their cribs, arranged ona stick. Arrived at some secluded spot, where he has heard the song of an intended victim, he sets his call-birds on upright sticks of two or three feet in length and places on the top of each cage a strong wire, heavily smeared with the gum of the sapadillo. This wire is very carefully twisted so that it can- not by any possibility become locsened. This is, of course, contrary to the ethics of all good bird-catchers, for if the bird falls to the ground with its stick, it is much more certain to be secured, and less liable to injure itself. However, this is British Guiana. Having made his “set-up,” the youth steals softly back and conceals himself a short distance away. As soon as left to themselves, the birds, if they be experienced, com- mence their song. Soon, an answering call is heard. In- stantly the decoys cease their song, and send forth their sharp call-notes. Soon the curious stranger appears, per- haps a fine adult male, full of eagerness for a battle. If this be the case the songs are again resumed, and the climax of the concert is almost certain to be the capture of the chal- lenger. If the visitor be a coy female, the seductive call-notes 128 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. are continued, and, though the time required may be greater, she is nearly as certain to be captured. Callow youngsters out for their first exploring trip, are of course the easiest Fic. 65. TatrputT Patm IN BLossom. victims. But when the trapper has taken a bird or two from this locality he must move on or give up for the day for he will take no more. The trapping methods of these people are, of course ? GEORGETOWN. 129 very primitive. They know nothing of clap-nets; they laugh at the idea of catching birds with an Owl, as practised successfully in the North. A black boy will bend his gummed wire securely on a likely twig, and lie all day on his back in the shade, hoping that a bird may light on it. Birds to whose capture they are not equal are very apt to be ‘licked’? — stunned by a bullet from a sling-shot — and foisted on the unwary purchaser. These unfortunates, of course, rarely live more than a day or two. No regard is shown for nesting birds or nestlings. Cas- siques and Orioles are captured by adjusting a string about the mouth of the long pendulous nest, and closing it tightly when the bird has entered to hover its eggs. In two instances, a black boy was seen to capture the female from her nest, by creeping up and dropping his hat over her. Some use is made of primitive trap-cages, which are baited with plantain or sliced mangoes. ‘Tanagers or “ sackies ”’ and various Orioles are taken in this manner. These simple people have, of course, no knowledge what- ever of proper food for insectivorous or frugivorous birds. Various fruits, preferably plantain, are used, and it is truly surprising how long some individuals will survive on this too acid food. Mr. Howie King, Government Agent of the Northwest District, actually kept a specimen of the Yellow Oriole ** for over seven years on a strictly fruit diet! Birds and other creatures were very abundant and tame in the Botanical Gardens. Guiana Green Herons * or ‘“‘Shypooks ”’ as the coolies call them, Spur-winged Jacanas”™ and Gallinules * walked here and there, the latter leading their dark-hued young over the Regia pads. Small croco- diles basked half out of the water, none over three feet in length, as abundant as turtles in a northern mill-pond. Several huge water buffalo, imported from the East Indies, looked strangely out of place in this hemisphere. Butter- 130 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. Fic. 66. CANAL OF THE CROCODILES. GEORGETOWN. 137 flies were scarce although a great variety of flowers were in profusion everywhere. April seems to be the height of the breeding season for many birds. In one tree we found two wasps’ nests, and nests with eggs or young of the following six species of birds; the Red-winged Ground Dove,® the Great?! and Lesser ™ Kiskadees, White-shouldered Ground Fly-catcher or ‘“Cotton- bird,” * Gray Tody-flycatcher or “ Pipitoori” * and Cinereus Becard.™ Chestnut Cuckoos of two species,” all four Kis- kadees,'°» 4 °° Caracaras,* Black-faced Tanagers or “Bucktown Sackies,” “! Woodhewers, Elanias 1” and other Flycatchers are a few among many birds which we were sure of seeing on every walk, while Anis, both great” and small * were everywhere. The Botanical Gardens are ideal for experimental botanical work and sugar cane in scores of varieties is being kept under observation. It is hard to believe that the delicate grass which we see springing up in the ditched fields will grow into the lofty and waving stalks of sugar cane. It is ex- ceedingly variable and should afford excellent material for experimental study. The original yellow-stalked cane develops red and purple streaks in many combinations, due apparently to difference in soils. Cane sent to Louisiana will, within twelve years, produce much larger nodes owing to the plant having to fruit in six months instead of eleven or twelve. The stalk, however, ‘does ‘not gain correspondingly in diameter; so there is no increase in sugar capacity. Tropi- cal plants?can in many casts‘ adapt themselves to shorter, northern summers, but temperate perennials soon die in the tropics from exhaustion, lacking their annual period of rest. The climatic conditions along the coast of British Guiana are peculiar, in that they simulate conditions usually existing at an altitude of two or three thousand feet. One result of 132 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. this is seen in the flourishing tree-ferns planted in the Botani- cal Gardens. Insects were not particularly abundant in Georgetown, that is, for a tropical country. One day Mr. Rodway, with his accustomed kindness, brought us two very interesting chrysalids of the swallow-tailed butterfly, Papilio polydamus, illustrating the remarkable color variation in this species. Both were found in his yard, a few feet from each other, one Fic. 67. YounGc ELANIA FLYCATCHERS. suspended among green leaves and the other on a wooden stairway which was painted a brick-red. One of the chrys- alids was leaf-green in color while the other was brown with brick-red trimmings! There was one remarkable exception to the scarcity of insects in Georgetown. Late in February, a moth-like Homopterus insect, Poeciloptera phalaenoides, was present in enormous numbers on the Saman trees which line many of the streets. The largest individuals had wings almost an inch in length of a light cream color, covered for about half GEORGETOWN. 133 their expanse with two masses of black dots. These were the males. The females were wingless and their bodies were covered with a long dense cottony secretion. The eggs and larvee which lined thousands of the twigs were also pro- tected by this white material. One could hardly walk without crushing these insects, so numerous were they. The only birds we observed feeding on them were Anis and domestic fowls. The middle of April found these insects as abundant as ever, still hatching in myriads, but by the 22d of the ronth the broods on the main streets seemed to be diminishing, although the hordes infesting the trees at the entrance of the Botanical Gardens were on the increase. Noticing that there seemed to be interesting nodes of variation in the number and patterns of the dots on the wings of the males, we set a Coolie boy to gathering them for future study and he soon had a thousand or more in a jar of alcohol. CHAPTER V. STEAMER AND LAUNCH TO HOORIE CREEK. HEN we left New York we had planned to go up the Demerara River from Georgetown and spend our time on the Essequibo and Potaro. We had the good fortune, however, to take the same steamer with Mr. and Mrs. Gaylord Wilshire who were paying their annual visit to their two large gold concessions. The previous year they had travelled over many of the larger rivers and when we heard their glow- ing accounts of the northern and western wilderness com- pared to the rather thinned out ‘‘ bush’ and more travelled route of the Demarara, and were asked to join their party in going first to the Hoorie Mine in the northwest and then to the Aremu Mine in central Guiana, we hesitated not a moment. We left the Georgetown stelling, or wharf, at noon on March 2d, on the little steamer ‘‘ Mazaruni”’ for the long coastwise trip to Morawhanna. Leaving the harbor flock * behind, we steered straight out to sea fo) of Laughing Gulls for several hours before turning to the northwest. The water all along the coast is very shallow and is so filled with sediment that even in a heavy gale the waves break but little. We passed the mouth of the Essequibo, thirty- five miles in width, with the two great islands, Wakenaam and Leguan, fairly in the centre of the mouth. The night was rough and windy and the little tub rolled wildly. At five o’clock next morning we were steaming slowly between two walls of green which brought vividly to mind our Venezuelan trip of last year. A few other plants were intermingled with the mangroves, but the solid ranks of the 134 STEAMER AND LAUNCH TO HOORIE CREEK. 135 latter were unbroken. The colors were as wonderful as ever; the rich dark green on cither hand, bright copper beneath and azure above. A few hours later we entered Mora Passage and here palms began to rear their heads over the other foliage. The air was cool and bracing, we breathed deeply and watched for the first signs of life. A half dozen Muscovy Ducks ® swung past, the giant master of the flock in the lead, their white wing mirrors flashing as they flew. Two Amazon Parrots rose ahead of us and the shore was alive with tiny white moths fluttering over the water. Morawhanna is within five miles of the Venezuela bound- ary, and politically is important as being the chief Govern- ment Station for the Northwest District, and being the entrance post for the gold fields of this region. As we ticd up to the primitive wharf, Indians in their dug-outs or wood- skins appeared in numbers, bringing fish, rubber and other things for trade to the little Chinese store. Morawhanna itself consists of a straggling line of thatched huts extending irregularly along the bank and inland between the marshy spots. 3 A short walk on shore showed the inhabitants to be Indians, blacks and half-breeds. Birds were abundant, especially Yellow-bellied Callistes,“* Honey Creepers, Tanagers, and the four commoner species of Kiskadee Tyrants 107; 1% 104 106, A large Skimmer” flew past the boat and later we saw several flocks. We expected to meet the launch from the Hoorie Mine, but as it had not yet arrived, we boarded the steamer again and went on with it to the end of its route at Mount Everard. We left Morawhanna at half-past ten in the morning and reached our destination five hours later. Although all this country is low and marshy, yet the White Mangrove and the Courida, or Red Mangrove, here give place to a variegated forest growth, and we soon saw our first Mora trees,— huge 136 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. Fic. 68. Typicat InDIAN House AT MORAWHANNA. STEAMER AND LAUNCH TO HOORIE CREEK. 137 we thought them, but to be dwarfed by the inland giants of our succeeding expeditions. The walls of vegetation were seventy or eighty feet in height, draped by vines, while dead branches protruded here and there from the water near shore. Many Snake-birds * were perched on these snags, from which they dropped silently into the water at our approach and swam off with body immersed. Blue-and-Yellow Macaws*' were common — always as usual in multiples of two. We observed them a_ half dozen times in different reaches of the river, four in the first group, then eight, two, six, four and two. A trio of American Egrets * kept flying ahead of us for several miles, hemmed in by the lofty walls of foliage, alighting now and then and waiting for the steamer. At last when only ten yards dis- tant they rose and floated over our heads. Once a splendid Guiana Crested Eagle” flew past and alighted on a dead tree, and twice we saw small colonies of Yellow *' and Red-backed *” Cassiques nesting in isolated Mora trees oul in the waler; a new method of protection on the part of these intelligent birds. At occasional intervals a nesting pair of White-throated Kingbirds was seen, but no other of the Tyrants which are socommon about houses in this region. The event of the day came when we caught a flash of white from a Buzzard floating high overhead and our stereos showed a King Vulture’ circling slowly around, craning his wattled head down at us as he drifted past. We had never expected to see this bird near the coast and indeed we saw no others during our entire stay in Guiana. As we steamed past a wind-break we caught a momentary glimpse of two wee naked Indian children paddling away in a wood-skin while behind them their bronze-skinned parents watched us silent'y. Mount Everard lies about fifty miles from Morawhanna up the Barima River and consists of a ramshackle hotel and 138 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. several logies — the latter being mere open sheds from whose rafters hammocks may be hung. The whole country here- abouts is low, except at this point where two small conical hills arise —one on each side of the river — bearing the high- sounding names of Mounts Everard and Terminus. The forest has been partly cleared from these and we attempted to explore the neighboring country. We soon gave it up as the underbrush was too thick, and even when we forced a way Fic. 69. THREE-YEAR Otps AT Homm IN THEIR WOOD-SKIN. through it there was no footing but muddy water. Cow- paths led over the ‘“‘mounts” which seemed to be composed of red, sticky clay. Half way up Mount Everard we found an enormous terrestrial ants’ nest, some fifteen feet across, bare of vegetation and with well-marked roads, four to six inches wide, leading out into the jungle. A little prodding with a stick brought out scores of huge-jawed soldiers (Atta cephalotes). The most interesting birds were the well-named Magpie STEAMER AND LAUNCH TO HOORIE CREEK. 139 Tanagers which flashed past now and then. ‘The long, grad- uated tail, the glossy black and white plumage and the con- spicuous white iris mark this as one of the most striking of the Tanagers. The call-note was loud and harsh but the tones of those we saw in captivity and of one individual which we brought back alive were pleasant and modulated. Euphonias, Blue,’*? Palm,™ 10 and Silver-beak "’ Tanagers and Red-underwing Doves were all nesting close to the settlement, while in a good-sized tree whose branches were brushing against the ‘hotel’? windows were some hundred nests of Cassiques — the Red’” and the Yellow-backed ™ in about equal numbers. When the two were seen fighting, the Red-backed seemed invariably to have the better of it. The natives here think the different colors mark the two Sexes. Just before sunset the wharf at Mount Everard began to show signs of life. All day it had been deserted, a few small flat-bottomed boats, which we came later to know by the native name of ballyhoos, being moored idly against the dock; but now as the day drew to a close, groups of Indians and negroes gathered. We hung over the railing of our boat and watched them as lazily and as curiously as they watched us. Then the quiet air was rent with a medley of grunts and squeals and brays, the cries and shouts of human beings rising above all the other sounds, as a large party of men appeared escorting one scrawny cow, one lean but energetic hog, and finally one donkey, in whose being was concentrated all the stubborness to which his race is heir. The problem was to load these beasts into one of the waiting ballyhoos. The ballyhoo was small, the current was moving it to and fro, and the cow and the donkey and the hog were not minded to go a-voyaging. As the negro always talks to his beast of burden as though it were his intellectual and social equal, so in this case the men approached the animals with all manner of OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. 140 ‘auvaaA, INAOP ‘OL Ol SS as STEAMER AND LAUNCH TO HOORIE CREEK. 141 reasonable argument, explaining where they were going and the importance of an early start and appealing to all that was noble and estimable, emphasizing everything with a choice selection of expletives combined with physical force. Finally after pushing and prodding the ill-fated cow they succeeded in half shoving, half throwing it into the boat. After many struggles the loudly indignant hog followed. When at last the donkey had been safely embarked we wondered if that little craft would ever reach its destination, with so heavy and protesting a load: when to our surprise the big black, who had been most vociferous and active in the recent mélée, wiped his dripping forehead and stood calling ‘ Possengers! Pos- sengers! all aboad’’! with as grand an air as though he were the chief steward on a great ocean liner. The “‘pos- sengers”’ proved to be half a dozen buxom negresses, who with many a coy glance and feminine shriek of terror allowed the big black proprietor to help them from the dock to the boat, now rocking violently beneath the restless feet of the animals. Finally the ballyhoo moved slowly up stream, bound for a distant mine in the far interior, and another boat laden with bananas followed. An Indian paddled swiftly past in his wood-skin. Then darkness fell as suddenly as the dropping of a stage curtain; and we turned away from the river drama back to our life on board the “‘ Mazaruni.” While awaiting the dinner bell we slung our hammocks along the deck, that through the meal we might know that they were swinging gently in the velvet night air, all ready for our comfortably tired selves. The night was clear and the blacks worked for several hours in the moonlight, unloading cargo. Not a mosquito came to mar the beauty of the night. Indeed the natives said they were never troublesome here at Mount Everard. In our hammocks as we rocked to sleep we thought drowsily of the 142 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. dear Venezuelan wilderness of last year. We were so glad to be sleeping again in the open under the canopy of the southern sky. At last we felt that we were on the threshold of another wilderness. At four o’clock in the morning we awoke and heard far off through the jungle, the old, familiar howling of the red “baboons.” About five a rooster crowed on board and was answered by several on shore, and this seemed to awaken a black who began singing from his hammock in a logie, when a score of others took up the wild refrain and kept it up until daylight. With the sudden rush of light came the dis- tant bubbling of Twa-twas, those little thick-billed pygmy Grosbeaks,“° and the cackling hubbub of the Cassique colony. Returning to Morawhanna we were made welcome at the home of Mr. Howie King the Government Agent, while waiting for our Hoorie launch. The government house is well built and belonged formerly to Sir Everard im Thurn. It is surrounded by a garden which must once have been mag- nificent and which Mr. King is attempting to restore, clearing away the undergrowth which has long overrun the beautiful shrubs and flowering plants. The house is built on the extreme southern end of a great island which extends in a northwest direction for about fifty miles far into Venezuela territory, Mora Passage lying between it and Morawhanna proper. Flowers were abundant, attracting many insects and these in turn birds of a score or more species. Kiskadees were nesting in low Bois Immortelle trees, Yellow-backed Cassiques or Bunyahs, in a great saman overhanging the house; while in the garden were Seed-caters of several kinds, together with Blue and Palm Tanagers and the beautiful Moriche Orioles.% Guiana House Wrens "4 indoors on the ceiling rafters and under the deep eaves of the half veranda, half sitting-room was a beautiful pendent nest were nesting STEAMER AND LAUNCH TO HOORIE CREEK. 143 of the Feather-toed Swift” composed entirely of feathery seed plumes. It was a straight symmetrical column about three inches in diameter and fourteen inches long, suspended from the palm thatch, not half a foot from a hanging, open-comb wasps’ nest. ‘The upper ten inches of the nest was built and occupied just six months ago in September, and a brood of Fic. 71. SIR EVERARD IM THURN’s House AT MoRAWHANNA. two young were reared. Now the birds had returned and were preparing to nest again, having already added four inches of pure white seed-plumes, easily distinguished from the older, browner, weathered portion. They came to the nest every hour with a beakful of plumes and pressed them into position while fluttering in mid air, evidently utilizing their saliva as a cementing substance. In the interims between their visits, 144 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. Hummingbirds,— sometimes two at once — came and filched nesting material from the lower end, fraying it out very appreciably. Their nests were attached to the lesser stems of a dense clump of bamboo in the garden. This Swift was common on all the Guiana rivers, hawk- ing with Swallows over the water. Seen on the wing it appears glossy black with a white throat and collar. It was the height of the season of courtship of the Palm * and they were noisy and bold. A caged fe- male proved to be a source of great attraction and several wild ones kept coming to the cage. We trapped two and they made themselves at home within a few minutes. There was considerable variation, some being gray, almost Tanagers ™ a bluish gray, while in others the green was strongly dominant. The chickens and ducks were taken by two kinds of opos- sums, one, large, ill-smelling and living in the bamboos, and the other very small and rat-like. Game was abundant here and tapirs, Tinamous and Guans were shot for food. The mudflats were inhabited by a host of crabs; most of them exactly like our little fiddlers, while others were larger and blue or yellow in color. Sand-flies and mosquitoes were present in small numbers, the latter troublesome enough for hammock nets at night, but the worst pest hereabouts was the béte-rouge which abounded in the grass both at Mount Everard and here. Nowhere else did we suffer so much from the fiendish little beasts. Like sea-sickness or an earthquake, béte-rouge is a great leveller of mankind, like a common disaster doing more to make men “‘ free and equal” than all the constitutions and doctrines ever signed. In a béte-rouge infested region the conversation is sooner or later sure to turn upon the sub- ject of these little red mites. Everyone you meet has his or her particular pet remedy to prescribe. The subject under STEAMER AND LAUNCH TO HOORIE CREEK. 145 discussion may be the coolie immigration laws, or the proper scientific name for some species of orchid or who is to be the next Governor — but some sharp-eyed fellow sufferer is certain to detect the guilty look upon one’s face which trans- lated into words would be “ My ankles are devoured by béte- rouge!’ and then the assembled company begins to discuss the topic of really vital interest. We tried all the remedies — Scrubb’s ammonia, dry soap, wet salt, wet soda, alcohol, resinol ointment, chloroform camphor, — to little purpose beyond very temporary relief. Finally we reached the stage when good manners were thrown to the winds and every victim scratched at will, despite the fact that it eventually aggravated the trouble. There was developed an individuality in the method so that at long distances we were able to recognize one another by the characteristic motions of discomfort! Then came the discovery of crab-oil, which is an ounce of prevention and not a cure. Rubbed on before going out, no sane béte-rouge will attack you. Crab-oil is made of the nut of the crab-wood tree and it is greasy and sticky and has a disagreeable, rancid odor, which is very lasting. One of us hinted that it was a question whether the remedy were not worse than the disease. She even objected to having bottles of crab-oil rolled for safety in packing, in her very hmited supply of clothing. She was promptly pronounced “ fin- nicky ” by her “ better half’ who was righteously indignant and surprised at discovering so unexpected a quality in her. But then he, more than anyone else, was afflicted with béte- rouge; and so could not be expected to see anything at all objectionable in the odor of the crab-oil to which he owed so much relief. It does unquestionably give relief. Well pro- tected with crab-oil one can bid defiance to the annoying little pests, which an old gentleman whom we chanced to meet in our travels persistently and seriously called “‘ dée noir,” 146 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. under the delusion that that was their proper and very appropriate name. Mr King’s garden was a constant source of interest be- cause of the flowers, the insects and the birds. In the top of a dead shrub a good-sized yellow flowered orchid had been tied. This, during the last rainy season, had evidently dropped seeds, some of which had clung to the branches beneath and then sprouted. When we saw them, there were twenty or more of these diminutive orchids scattered over the shrub, each with four tiny clinging rootlets, a three- parted leaflet and in the centre one blossom as big as the entire plant, the whole not larger than a shilling. Two large species of lizards lived in the garden, the common iguana which climbed the trees and fed on leaves and buds, and another, called locally Salapenta (Teius nigro punctatus), which included carrion, chicks and even fish in its bill of fare. They would now and then dive into asmall pond and appear with a small fish in their jaws. The last evening of our stay at Mr. King’s we spent sitting on the wharf looking out over Mora Passage. The ripples died from the wake of the steamer as she vanished around a bend on her way back to Georgetown. A cool refreshing breeze blew toward us as the sun’s light faded and a dense flock of more than a hundred Amazon Parrots flew overhead. Our shadows changed from sharp black outlines thrown on the water before us to faint gray shapes, moon-cast on the crab-wood boards behind. The tangle of palms and liana-draped trees across the Passage became more indistinct and the brilliant moon- light lit up the swirling brown current. An Indian boy passed silently in a narrow curiara. We were his friends— we had given him sixpence and he was off to the little store amid the low thatched huts a few hundred yards down the river, which marked Morawhanna. We knew him only as STEAMER AND LAUNCH TO HOORIE CREEK. 147 Frederick, for no white person would ever be told his real name — that of some animal or bird — as such disclosure is against all Indian custom, from the fear of thereby giving others evil power over them. He gave us a quick, shy, half smile, and then all light died from his Mongolian features and he peered sternly into the darkness ahead. Well had he Fic. 72. PALM TANAGER. need of fear and caution. We may be sure his purchases were made stealthily and his quick return was certain, for death watched for him in a hundred places. The day before, he had testified against three of his tribe — the Caribs — for the murder of his father, and now the stern hand of English justice had closed and the chief murderer was eating his heart out somewhere in a cell beyond the 148 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. bend of the river. No more could Frederick mingle with his tribe, and on his knees and in tears he had begged Mr. King to keep him and shelter him on the Government Island. The vendetta would follow him through lfe and it was almost certain he would be killed sooner or later. The calm of the evening was perfect, undisturbed by all this hidden tragedy. When the moon was well clear of the trees, some great frog hidden in the swamp began his rhythmical kronk! kronk! kronk! and tiny bats dashed about, splashing the surface of the water as they drank or snatched floating insects. The yap! yap! of a passing but invisible Skimmer came faintly, and the throbbing roll of a second kind of frog rumbled out of the dusk across the river. The moonlight became ever stronger and now a Kiskadee called sleepily from his great untidy nest in the distant village. A sharp whip- lash of sound came to our ears and we knew that a Parauque ’® had awakened from his diurnal slumber. An answering cry sounded near at hand in the garden and we could distinguish the two connected tones. The splash of paddles announced the return of the rest of our party as an Indian woman began a droning song from the fire before her hut a few yards away. Impatient as we were to get into the real “bush,” the days at Morawhanna were delightful. From Mr. King we learned a great deal about England’s government of this out-of-the-world colony. We were especially interested in the protection of the indentured coolie. In the first place the coolie labor market is never allowed to become over- crowded. Each employer sends in an order for the exact number of workmen which he requires, so that the supply brought over is never greater than the demand. The coolie gets free passage from India to South America, and is guaranteed work at a minimum wage of a shilling a day, STEAMER AND LAUNCH TO HOORIE CREEK. 149 including his food. On his arrival the immigration agent assigns him to a certain estate, where his term of indenture is five years, his wage being increased as his capacity for work becomes greater. During his term of service he can leave the estate only by permission, and he must never be found at large without his pass book. At the end of five years the coolie is free to work where he pleases, or to take up a grant of land of his own. After five years more of residence he may return to India free of charge if he so wishes. As the coolie is very thrifty and can live on threepence a day, his menu being rice and water, at the expiration of his ten years, in addition to having earned his living and supported his family, he has often saved up as much as two thousand dollars. Throughout his term of indenture the English government looks after him. He always has good medical care free, and the law watches over him with scrupulous vigilance, secing that he is justly treated by his employer, and that no advan- tage is taken of his ignorance and inexperience. When the coolie leaves India he, of course, loses caste, but as they all fall proportionately, each moving down one in the social scale, a proper balance is preserved. The coolie returning to India, however, finds himself a disgraced outcast. To regain his position in society he must pay large sums of money to the priests; and so it is that he returns to his native land only to be robbed of his hard-earned savings, often returning to South America as a re-indentured man, to start life again. In order to discourage his return to India, the government offers him the money equivalent to his return passage. Many of the coolies take advantage of this and make South America their permanent home, taking up grants of their own and living in greater peace and prosperity than would ever have been possible for them in India. The population of Morawhanna is composed of coolies, 150 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. Indians and blacks, who look to the magistrate as a sort of all powerful father to whom they bring troubles of every conceivable kind. As we were sitting at breakfast one day an aged coolie man was seen hanging around the door. He must see Mr. King on a most important matter, which proved to be a delicate one indeed. His wife had fallen in love with another man and what was he to do? Such troubles are very common among the coolies. Instead of avenging himself upon the man who dared to alienate his wife’s affections, the coolie invariably murders his wife, the favorite method being to chop her up “ particularly small.” In this instance the wife was young and good looking, and her grievance was that her husband expected her to assume the entire support of him and his family, and she declared she would rather die than go back to him. The only solu- tion -ef the problem was to hurry the woman off on the after- noon boat to Georgetown, in order to save her from murder and her husband from execution. They are all very fond of bringing their wrongs into court. An irate Indian woman will appear, bringing a charge against the dressmaker who has made her wedding dress too short. Dress of any description is the most recent of acquisitions with the Indian woman, but having acquired it she intends that her wedding gown shall fulfill all the requirements of Dame Fashion, so far as she knows them. The gown in question has been brought into court as incontrovertible evidence. Should she not put it on and prove to the magistrate, who cries in despair that he knows nothing of the proper length of wedding gowns and calls in another dressmaker for expert opinion. The two dress- makers stand together and the case is dismissed. This is quoted to show the infinite patience with which the magis- trate treats each case, however trivial. STEAMER AND LAUNCH TO HOORIE CREEK. I51 The commissioner of health brings a charge against a coolie man, on the ground that he has allowed the drains near his hut to become clogged and so endangered the Public Health. Mr. King reads the indictment in impressive, magisterial tones, accusing the offender of having permitted his drains to become foul. Foul is evidently the one word which con- veys any meaning to the coolie, who exclaims in a tone of relief that he has never kept any “fowls”! In British Guiana the arm of the law must have a sense of humor as well as of justice! We often wondered what was going on behind the impas- sive face of little Frederick. Did he live in constant terror or did he sometimes forget it all in the light-hearted pleasure of achild? The man convicted of his father’s murder was a peaiman — or medicine man, who is held in great awe and reverence by his tribe. So Frederick’s betrayal was doubly criminal in the eyes of the superstitious Indians. Frederick had been brought down to Morawhanna at Christmas — a little naked savage knowing not a word of English. When at a loss for a word he always fell back upon the civil “Sir”? which Mr. King had taught him. As white women were rare in Morawhanna he had never learned the feminine of “ Sir.”” It was very amusing to see him serv- ing at table, going all around asking with great dignity, “What will you have, Suh ?”’ regardless of the sex of the guest. My. King had taught him to knock before entering a room. He was childishly delighted with the new accomplishment and knocked on both entering and leaving the room. We discovered that he had spent our sixpence on a belt which it seems was the desire of his heart — already so sophisti- cated! The dazed stoicism of the convicted Indian was infinitely pathetic to us. This terrible thing called the Law is so incomprehensible to him. He cannot understand it. When 152 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. a convicted comrade is taken down to Georgetown to execu- tion, his friends and family realize only that he has gone away in a boat to some mysterious place from which he never returns. As far as the moral effect of an execution is con- cerned, there is none. Fic. 73. FREDERICK, THE CARIB INDIAN Boy. Into the absolutely natural life of the Indian, with the simple and perfectly comprehended tribal laws, has come so much that is confusing; — the new religion, the relations of the laborer to the employer, the wearing of clothes and the strange and powerful law. The Indian is a creature of the present moment, instantly acting upon every desire, working when he wishes to work, and quietly dropping STEAMER AND LAUNCH TO HOORIE CREEK. 153 all work and departing when he so desires. What can he — the creature of Nature — know of all this puzzling civilization ? At noon on March 6th we embarked on the three days’ tent-boat journey from Morawhanna to Hoorie Mine. A thirty-foot launch was the motor power and alongside this the big tent-boat was lashed, while several Indians hitched their wood-skins behind as boys hitch sleds to a passing sleigh. The baggage was stored fore and aft and, perched on a pile in the bow, we prepared for our first real day of observation along the rivers of the Northwest. We retraced our way northward through Mora Passage, frightening as we went, a flock of seven Scarlet Ibises.”” They kept close together and were evidently a single family, as two were in fully adult plumage, while the others were only three quarters grown, and feathered wholly in brown and white. About three o’clock in the afternoon we reached the Waini River, but instead of turning toward the mouth and the open ocean which we could see to the northwest, we steered eastward up stream. Although the outlet of several large rivers, the Waini, in its lower reaches, is little more than a great salt water tidal inlet, or cafio. At Mora Passage the Waini is about two miles wide and through the choppy waters of the falling tide we steered straight across to the north shore. Between the waters of this river and the ocean extends a long narrow strip of marshy mangrove, for at least forty miles. Both the White and the Red Mangrove are found here, the latter predominating, and this is the breeding sanctuary of the hosts of birds which haunt the mud-flats at low tide and fill the trees with a gorgeous display of color when the feeding grounds are covered at high tide. 154 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. For the next three hours we were enchanted by a constantly changing panorama of bird life, which in extent and variety can seldom be equalled elsewhere. While crossing the Waini several Swallow-tailed Kites * soared screaming overhead, occasionally swooping past for a nearer look at us. As we skirted the great mangrove forest, birds flew up ahead, few at first but in constantly increasing numbers, until several hundred were in sight at once. They showed little fear and were apparently content to vibrate slowly along between launch and shore, accompanying us for fifteen or twenty miles. By far the greater number were Little Blue Herons,* the pure white immature and the slaty blue adults being equally numerous. The latter were very inconspicuous among the foliage, while the former stood out like marble statues against green velvet. The coloring showed great asymmetrical varia- tion, and one young bird with a single blue feather in the right wing was so tame that it kept almost abreast of our flotilla. The irregularity of moult resulted in most remark- able patterns, as in several birds, each of which had one white and one bluish wing. Half a dozen Yellow-crowned Night Herons * were seen and twenty or thirty of the illnamed Louisianas.*