Part 3—Chapter XVI.Wonders of the Forest.Of the palms alone, upwards of a hundred species are found in these forests. These supply the Indian with nearly all he wants to support existence. Their fruit, or pith, or crowns, furnish him with an abundance of food. He builds his hut and floors it with their wood, and thatches it with their leaves. From the trunks of some species he forms his canoes, of different sizes. He obtains from them oil, cord, thread, wine—or a beverage which answers the purpose—wax, mats, baskets, arrows for his sumpitan or bow, and numberless other articles. Pure, clear oils are made from some of the nuts and palm fruits; while many palms yield a fibrous material admirably suited for cordage, being singularly elastic and resistant.From the curious candella-tree,—called by the Spaniardsarbol de la manteca, by the Indianscuajo,—he obtains tallow for candles and excellent oil for lamps, and a beverage which is made from its fruit.The cow-tree supplies a milk in appearance like that of the animal from which it takes its name, but thicker. On analysing this product, it is found to consist of water, animalmilk, and wax as pure as that obtained from bees. By dipping cotton in the liquid, too, candles can be made.In the hotter regions grows the bajuco d’agua, which supplies the place of wells and fountains,—each yard of it affording a pint of water. High up on the mountainside, in the regions of icy wastes, called the paramos, grows the frailejou, which yields a pure turpentine, and assists to warm the human body. Of the palms, a few only can be described. There is the cocoa-nut palm, with its swollen bulb-like stem when young, its tall straight trunk when full-grown, its cluster of heavy fruit, its long plume-like drooping flower; the coccoeiro, with its slighter trunk and pendent branches of small berry-like fruit; the palmetto, with its tender succulent bud on the summit of the stem, used as a vegetable, and proving an excellent substitute for cabbage; the thorny icari, or cari—a variety of fan-palm. Its spiny stems and leaves, which cut like razors, make it difficult to approach. Its bunches of bright chestnut-brown fruit hang from between the leaves which form its crown, each bunch about a foot in length, massive and compact, like a large cluster of black Hamburg grapes.The syagrus palm has a greenish fruit, not unlike the olive in appearance, which hangs in large pendent bunches just below the leaves. The fruit resembles somewhat that of the bread-tree, but is more slender and cylindrical in form.The leaves of different kinds of palms are used for thatching the Indian huts, the curua palm among others. When young, they grow closely round the mid-rib attached to the axis by a few fibres only, so that when the mid-rib is held up they hang from it like so many straw-coloured ribbons. With these leaves both the walls and roofs are covered. The mid-rib, which is strong, and sometimes four or five yards long, is set across to serve as a support, and bind down the pendent leaves. Such a thatch will last for years, and is an excellent protection from rain as well as sun.The Indian furnishes himself with cups and vessels of all sorts from the cuieira-tree (Crescentia cajeput). It is of immense size, the fruit being like a gourd. It is spherical, of a light green shining surface, and grows from the size of an apple to that of the largest melon. It is filled with a soft white pulp, easily removed when the fruit is cut in halves. The rind is then allowed to dry. Cups and basins of various sizes are made from it, which the Indians adorn with a variety of brilliant colours.One of the staple productions of the Upper Amazon is the guarana. It is a trailing plant, a sort of vine; when full-grown, about eight feet high, and bearing a bean the size of a coffee-bean, two being enclosed in each envelope. This bean, after being roasted, is pounded in a small quantity of water till it becomes compact, and, when dry, is about the colour of chocolate. It is then grated with the rough tongue of the piraracu, and when mixed with sugar and water makes a refreshing beverage. It is said to have an excellent effect when administered in cases of diarrhoea.Aspects of the Forest.Although at some times of the year the forests present only varied tints of green and brown, unrelieved by brighter colours; at others, when, after the rains, nature has revived, the banks of the streams are gay and beautiful in the extreme. Thousands of brilliant blossoms of varied colours rise amid the trunks of the trees, or hang in rich festoons from the branches, while the air is laden with the almost overpowering perfume of numberless flowers.“Wild flowers,” says Mrs Agassiz, “are abundant; not delicate small plants growing low among the moss and grass, but large blossoms covering tall trees, and resembling exotics at home by their rich colour and powerful odour—indeed, the flowers of the Amazonian forests reminded me of hot-house plants—and there often comes a warm breath from the depth of the woods laden with perfume, like the air from the open door of a conservatory.”“Beautiful as are the endless forests, however,” she remarks in another place, “we could not but long, when skirting them day after day, without seeing a house or meeting a canoe, for the sight of tilled soil, for pasture lands, for open ground, for wheat-fields and hay-stacks; for any sign, in short, of the presence of man. As we sat at night in the stern of the vessel, looking up the vast river stretching many hundred leagues, with its shores of impenetrable forests, it was difficult to resist an oppressive sense of loneliness. Though here and there an Indian settlement or a Brazilian village appears, yet the population is a mere handful in such a territory.”Wonderful is the change in the appearance of the tropical representatives of well-known families in the Old World.The india-rubber tree belongs to the milk-weed family. The euphorbiaceae assume the form of colossal trees, constituting a considerable part of its strange and luxuriant forest growth. The giant of the Amazonian woods, whose majestic flat crown towers over all other trees, while its white trunk stands out in striking relief through the surrounding mass of green—the sumaumera—is allied to the mallows of the North. Some of the most characteristic trees of the river-shore belong to these two families.Buttress Trees.One of the most striking characteristics of the forest vegetation is the way in which many of the trunks of the trees are supported by buttresses. The huge sumaumera is especially remarkable; but this disposition to throw out supports is not confined to one tree. It occurs in many families. These buttresses start at a distance of about ten feet from the ground, separating greatly towards the base, where they are often ten to twelve feet in depth. The lower part of the trunk is thus divided into several open compartments, so large that, if roofed over, they would form a hut with sufficient space for two people to stand up or lie down in. Others, however, rise to the height of twenty or thirty feet, and run up in the form of ribs to forty or fifty feet. Other trees appear as if they were composed of a number of slender stalks bound together, and are ribbed to their entire height. In some places the furrows reach completely through them, and appear like the narrow windows of a tower. The stems of others again rise on the summit of numerous roots, like the bulging-stemmed palm, apparently standing on a number of legs at the height of a dozen feet or more from the ground. Often the roots thus form archways sufficiently large for a person to walk beneath.Sipos or Wild Vines.Circling round the stems of trees in innumerable coils, and grasping them with a deadly embrace, grow in rich luxuriance countless wild vines, well meriting the name of murdering sipos. They hang in festoons from their boughs, and form an intricate tracery of network from tree to tree,—often of sufficient strength to support the falling monarchs of the forest when time has wrought decay among their roots.Here are seen tillandsias and bromeliaceae, like the crowns of huge pineapples; large climbing arums, with their dark green and arrow-head shaped leaves, forming fantastic and graceful ornaments swinging in mid-air; while huge-leaved ferns and other parasites cling to the stems up to the very highest branches. These are again covered by other creeping plants; and thus we see parasites on parasites, and on these parasites again. As we gaze upwards, we see against the clear blue sky the finely divided foliage, many of the largest of the forest-trees having leaves as delicate as those of the trembling mimosa: among them appear the huge palmate leaves of the cecropias, and the oval glossy ones of the clusias, countless others of intermediate forms adding to the variety of its scenery,—the bright sunshine playing on the upper portion of the foliage, while a solemn gloom reigns among the dark columns which support this wondrous roof of verdure.In truth, in these woods a thousand objects attract the eye, each a world of varied vegetation in itself; while the ear listens to the quick rustling breeze moving the palm-leaves fifty feet or more above the head,—not like the slow gathering, rushing wind among the pine-trees in northern climes, but like rapidly running water. Now an immense butterfly of the most vivid blue comes sailing by to alight on a neighbouring shrub, when, suddenly folding his azure wings out of sight, it looks merely like some brown moth spotted with white.As evening comes on, in some districts a strange confusion of sounds is heard, as from a crowd of men shouting loudly at a distance. Now it seems like the barking of dogs, then like that of many voices calling in different keys, but all loud, varied, excited, full of emphasis; and yet, after all, the rioters are but the frogs and toads uttering their usual notes.The Seringa or India-Rubber Tree.Along the whole extent of the submerged region on the banks of the Amazon, beginning at a distance of about fifty miles from Para, as well as on the shores of many of its tributaries, grows a tree with bark and foliage not unlike that of the European ash. The trunk, however, shoots up to an immense height before throwing off branches. It is the valuable seringa-tree (Siphonia elastica), belonging to the family Euphorbia, which produces india-rubber. As soon as the waters after the rainy season have subsided, the natives go forth in parties to procure the sap with large bowls, claymoulds, pans in which to collect it, and axes for cutting the wood for their fires. They build their huts in the neighbourhood of the trees.The first business is to make gashes in the bark, keeping them open by pegs, under which they place little clay cups, or shells. Each person has a certain number of trees under his charge. Every morning he goes round, and pours what has collected in the cups into a large bowl. The sap is at first of the consistency of cream, but it soon thickens. The moulds, which are generally in the form of bottles, are then dipped into the liquid. As soon as the coating is dried, the mould is again dipped in, and the same process is gone through for several days. The substance is at this time hard and white. Meantime fires are made with the nuts of several species of palms—the inaja and others. These produce a thick black smoke. The india-rubber is then passed several times through it. By this means a dark colour and the proper consistency are obtained. The moulds being broken, the clay is poured out, and the material is ready for the market.Sometimes it is formed in large flat pieces; and of late years it has been preserved in a liquid state in hermetically closed vessels.The seringa-tree differs greatly from the group of plants which furnish the caoutchouc of Africa and the West Indies; the latter being the product of certain species of ficus of a climbing character, and inferior to the india-rubber of South America.The Cow-Tree.Among the noblest of the forest monarchs appears a tree with deeply-scored reddish and ragged bark. Who wouldhave supposed that from that vast trunk would issue a milky liquid scarcely distinguishable at first from that of the cow? Yet such is the sap coming from the opening made by the axe from the massaranduba or cow-tree. When fresh it serves every purpose of real milk when mixed with coffee; but drunk pure has a somewhat coarse taste—and it is considered dangerous to drink much of it, however refreshing a small quantity may be. It soon thickens, and forms a tenacious glue, which can be usefully employed in cementing crockery. A decoction of the bark is employed as a red dye for cloth. The fruit, also, is largely consumed; while the wood is excessively durable in water.Monkeys’ Drinking-Cups—Brazil-Nut Tree.Two lofty trees, closely allied to each other—the Lecythis ollaria and the Bertholletia excelsa—produce enormous capsules full of nuts. The first, called the sapucaya, yields these curious capsules known ascuyas de maccao, or monkeys’ drinking-cups. At the top is a circular hole, to which a natural lid fits exactly. On the nuts becoming ripe the lid is loosened, and the heavy cup falling to the ground, the nuts are scattered far and wide, when they are eaten by numerous animals on the watch for them. The collectors, therefore, have difficulty in obtaining them. The other tree, known as the Brazil-nut tree, produces similar wooden vessels; but as they have no lid, they fall entire to the ground, and are thus preserved till human beings come to collect them, when they are shipped to England and other parts of the world.The Victoria Regia.On the surface of the tranquil pools, amid the recesses of the forest, float the wide-spreading circular leaves of the magnificent Victoria regia, like vast dishes—their edges turned up all round—with beautiful flowers rising amid them. The colour varies from the velvety white outer petals through every shade of rose to the deepest crimson, and fading again to a creamy yellowish tint in the heart of the flower. The nativescall it theforno do piosoca, or oven of the jacana—the leaves being like that of the baking-pans, or ovens, on which the mandioca meal is roasted. The leaf rises from the root at the bottom of the pool, on a stock armed with sharp spines.When young, the leaf may be seen in the form of a deep cup or vase surrounded with ribs, at that time comparatively small, the whole green expanse of the adult leaf covered in between them in regular rows of puffings. As the ribs grow their ramifications stretch out in every direction, the leaflets one by one unfolding to fill the ever-widening spaces; till at last, when it reaches the surface of the water, it rests horizontally above it without a wrinkle—the colossal leaf being thus supported by a heavy scaffold of ribs beneath it, sufficient not only to support the light-stepping jacana, but even a young child. Some of the leaves have a diameter of from four to five feet; some may grow even to a larger size.“Here, seen in its own home, it has in addition to its own beauties the charm of harmony with all that surrounds it,” observes Mrs Agassiz,—“with the dense mass of forest, with palm and parasite, with birds of glowing plumage, with insects of all bright and wonderful tints, and with fishes which, though hid in the water beneath it, are not less brilliant and varied than the world of life above.”Palms.Almost countless are the varieties of trees in the Amazonian forests, and wonderful the diversity in their combination. Rarely is the soil found occupied for any extent by the same kind of tree. A vast proportion are yet unknown to science. The palms surpass in number and variety all their sylvan brethren. They differ wonderfully in form and size: some, sturdy giants towering up towards the sky with wide-spreading branches; others, delicate little pigmies with slender stems and small broom-like crowns; while others assume the form of creepers, and wind in many folds round the supporting trunks of other trees.“Among them are four essentially different forms:—the tall ones, with a slender and erect stem, terminating with a crown of long feathery leaves, or with broad fan-shaped leaves,” remarks Professor Agassiz; “the bushy ones, the leaves of which rise, as it were, in tufts from the ground, the stem remaining hidden under the foliage; the brush-like ones, with a small stem, and a few rather large leaves; and the winding, creeping, slender species. Their flowers and fronds are as varied as their stalks. Some of these fruits may be compared to large woody nuts with a fleshy mass inside, others have a scaly covering, others resemble peaches or apricots, while others, still, are like plums or grapes. Most of them are eatable, and rather pleasant to the taste.”Among the most beautiful is the mauritia, or miriti, withpendent clusters of reddish fruit; its enormous, spreading, fan-like leaves cut into ribbons. Contrasted with it appears the manicaria, or the bussu, with stiff entire leaves, some thirty feet in length, almost upright, and very close in their mode of growth, and serrated all along their edges. The leaves all sprout from, a comparatively short stem.More curious is the raphia, with plume-like leaves, sometimes from forty to fifty feet in length, starting also from a short stem—almost from the ground. Its vase-like form is peculiarly graceful and symmetrical.Among the most curious is the pashiüba barrigudo, or bulging-stemmed palm (Iriartea ventricosa); which, rising on a pyramid of roots for several feet, runs up in a single column for some distance, and then swells in a curious spindle-form, again to assume the same proportions as below, till its head spreads out in several fan-like branches with web-shaped leaflets. The tree looks as if supported on stilts, and a person can stand upright among the roots of old trees with the perpendicular stem above his head. These roots have the form of straight rods, and are studded with stout thorns, whilst the trunk is quite smooth. The purpose of this curious arrangement is probably to recompense the tree by root-growth above the soil for its inability, in consequence of the competition of neighbouring roots, to extend itself underground.Here, too, grows the slender and graceful assai-palm, with its perfectly smooth trunk,—the fruit appearing in a heavy cluster of berries just below the cluster of leaves on its summit. The stem is hard and tough as horn, and is much made use of, when split into narrow planks, for the construction of walls and flooring of houses.The fruit is about the size of a cranberry, and of a dark brown colour. When boiled and crushed it yields a quantity of juice of about the consistency of chocolate, somewhat of the colour of blackberry juice, when it has a sweetish taste—and is eaten, made into cakes with the flour of the mandioca root. From it also is formed the favourite beverage of the people. To obtain the fruit, the native fastens a strip of palm-leaves round his instep, thus binding his feet together, to enable him to climb the slippery trunk, which he does with wonderful rapidity, to obtain the fruit at its summit.Wherever a native village exists, there are seen growing in clusters, beautiful ornaments beside the palm-thatched huts, the tall and elegant pupunha, or peach palm—Guilielma speciosa—to the height of sixty feet, and often perfectly straight. A single bunch of the fruit weighs as much as a man can carry, and on each tree several are borne. It takes its name from the colour of the fruit, not from its flavour or nature, for it is dry and mealy, and may be compared in taste to a mixture of chestnuts and cheese. It is eagerly devoured by vultures, who come in quarrelsome flocks to the trees when it is ripe. Dogs often feed on it. It is one of the few trees which the natives brought with them, it is said, from their original home, and have here cultivated from time immemorial. The fruit, when boiled, is nearly as mealy as a potato; and in perfection is the size of a large peach. It is generally supposed that there is more nutriment in the fruit than in fish,—about a dozen forming a meal for a grown-up person. The leaves of its crown are evenly arched over, forming a deep green vault—the more beautiful from the rich colour of the foliage. When the heavy cluster of ripe red fruit hangs under its dark vault, the tree is in its greatest beauty.The palms are among the most characteristic features of tropical scenery. The variety of their forms, fruit, foliage, and flowers is perfectly bewildering, and yet as a group their character is unmistakable. On the whole, no family of trees is more similar; generically and specifically, none is more varied. Their leaves follow the simple arrangement of those of grasses, in which the leaves are placed alternately on opposite sides of the stem, thus dividing the space round it in halves. As the stem of the branches elongates, these pairs of leaves are found scattered along its length, and it is only in the ears, or spikes of some genera, that we find them growing so compactly on the axis as to form a close head.Of this law of growth the palm known as the baccaba is an admirable illustration, its leaves being disposed in pairs one above another at the summit of the stem, but in such immediate contact as to form a thick crown. Its appearance is in consequence totally different from any other palm, exceptperhaps the jacitara, which has a slender, winding stem. Sometimes the crown is more open, as in the inaja—Maximiliana regia—in which the stem is not very high, and the leaves grow in cycles of five, separating slightly, so as to form an open vase rising from a slender stem.Professor Agassiz remarks that the rest of this tropical forest is as interesting to the geologist as to the botanist, as it reveals to him its relation to the vegetable world of past ages, showing those laws of growth which unite the past and the present.The tree-ferns—the chamaerops, the pandanus, the araucarias—are modern representatives of past types. The former is a palm belonging to the ancient vegetable world, but having its representative in our days. The modern chamaerops, with its fan-like leaves spreading on one level, stands, with respect to its structure, lower than the palms with pinnate leaves, which belong almost exclusively to our geological age, and have numerous leaflets ranging along either side of a central axis. The young palms, while their elders tower fifty feet above them, are often not more than two inches high; and to whatever genus they may belong, invariably resemble the chamaerops,—having their leaves extending fan-like on one plane, instead of being scattered along a central axis, as in the adult tree. The infant palm is, in fact, the mature chamaerops in miniature; showing that among plants, as among animals—at least in some instances—there is a correspondence between the youngest stages of growth in the higher species of a given type, and the earliest introduction of that type on earth.More gregarious in their habits than most other palms are the urucuri palms—Attalea excelsa—groves of which beautify the higher lands, and grow in vast numbers under the crowns of the more lofty ordinary forest-trees; their smooth columnar stems being generally fifty feet in height, while their broad, finely pinnated leaves, interlocking above, form arches and woven canopies of elegant and diversified shapes. The fruit, in size and shape like the date, has a pleasant flavoured juicy pulp, and falls to the ground when ripe.
Of the palms alone, upwards of a hundred species are found in these forests. These supply the Indian with nearly all he wants to support existence. Their fruit, or pith, or crowns, furnish him with an abundance of food. He builds his hut and floors it with their wood, and thatches it with their leaves. From the trunks of some species he forms his canoes, of different sizes. He obtains from them oil, cord, thread, wine—or a beverage which answers the purpose—wax, mats, baskets, arrows for his sumpitan or bow, and numberless other articles. Pure, clear oils are made from some of the nuts and palm fruits; while many palms yield a fibrous material admirably suited for cordage, being singularly elastic and resistant.
From the curious candella-tree,—called by the Spaniardsarbol de la manteca, by the Indianscuajo,—he obtains tallow for candles and excellent oil for lamps, and a beverage which is made from its fruit.
The cow-tree supplies a milk in appearance like that of the animal from which it takes its name, but thicker. On analysing this product, it is found to consist of water, animalmilk, and wax as pure as that obtained from bees. By dipping cotton in the liquid, too, candles can be made.
In the hotter regions grows the bajuco d’agua, which supplies the place of wells and fountains,—each yard of it affording a pint of water. High up on the mountainside, in the regions of icy wastes, called the paramos, grows the frailejou, which yields a pure turpentine, and assists to warm the human body. Of the palms, a few only can be described. There is the cocoa-nut palm, with its swollen bulb-like stem when young, its tall straight trunk when full-grown, its cluster of heavy fruit, its long plume-like drooping flower; the coccoeiro, with its slighter trunk and pendent branches of small berry-like fruit; the palmetto, with its tender succulent bud on the summit of the stem, used as a vegetable, and proving an excellent substitute for cabbage; the thorny icari, or cari—a variety of fan-palm. Its spiny stems and leaves, which cut like razors, make it difficult to approach. Its bunches of bright chestnut-brown fruit hang from between the leaves which form its crown, each bunch about a foot in length, massive and compact, like a large cluster of black Hamburg grapes.
The syagrus palm has a greenish fruit, not unlike the olive in appearance, which hangs in large pendent bunches just below the leaves. The fruit resembles somewhat that of the bread-tree, but is more slender and cylindrical in form.
The leaves of different kinds of palms are used for thatching the Indian huts, the curua palm among others. When young, they grow closely round the mid-rib attached to the axis by a few fibres only, so that when the mid-rib is held up they hang from it like so many straw-coloured ribbons. With these leaves both the walls and roofs are covered. The mid-rib, which is strong, and sometimes four or five yards long, is set across to serve as a support, and bind down the pendent leaves. Such a thatch will last for years, and is an excellent protection from rain as well as sun.
The Indian furnishes himself with cups and vessels of all sorts from the cuieira-tree (Crescentia cajeput). It is of immense size, the fruit being like a gourd. It is spherical, of a light green shining surface, and grows from the size of an apple to that of the largest melon. It is filled with a soft white pulp, easily removed when the fruit is cut in halves. The rind is then allowed to dry. Cups and basins of various sizes are made from it, which the Indians adorn with a variety of brilliant colours.
One of the staple productions of the Upper Amazon is the guarana. It is a trailing plant, a sort of vine; when full-grown, about eight feet high, and bearing a bean the size of a coffee-bean, two being enclosed in each envelope. This bean, after being roasted, is pounded in a small quantity of water till it becomes compact, and, when dry, is about the colour of chocolate. It is then grated with the rough tongue of the piraracu, and when mixed with sugar and water makes a refreshing beverage. It is said to have an excellent effect when administered in cases of diarrhoea.
Although at some times of the year the forests present only varied tints of green and brown, unrelieved by brighter colours; at others, when, after the rains, nature has revived, the banks of the streams are gay and beautiful in the extreme. Thousands of brilliant blossoms of varied colours rise amid the trunks of the trees, or hang in rich festoons from the branches, while the air is laden with the almost overpowering perfume of numberless flowers.
“Wild flowers,” says Mrs Agassiz, “are abundant; not delicate small plants growing low among the moss and grass, but large blossoms covering tall trees, and resembling exotics at home by their rich colour and powerful odour—indeed, the flowers of the Amazonian forests reminded me of hot-house plants—and there often comes a warm breath from the depth of the woods laden with perfume, like the air from the open door of a conservatory.”
“Beautiful as are the endless forests, however,” she remarks in another place, “we could not but long, when skirting them day after day, without seeing a house or meeting a canoe, for the sight of tilled soil, for pasture lands, for open ground, for wheat-fields and hay-stacks; for any sign, in short, of the presence of man. As we sat at night in the stern of the vessel, looking up the vast river stretching many hundred leagues, with its shores of impenetrable forests, it was difficult to resist an oppressive sense of loneliness. Though here and there an Indian settlement or a Brazilian village appears, yet the population is a mere handful in such a territory.”
Wonderful is the change in the appearance of the tropical representatives of well-known families in the Old World.
The india-rubber tree belongs to the milk-weed family. The euphorbiaceae assume the form of colossal trees, constituting a considerable part of its strange and luxuriant forest growth. The giant of the Amazonian woods, whose majestic flat crown towers over all other trees, while its white trunk stands out in striking relief through the surrounding mass of green—the sumaumera—is allied to the mallows of the North. Some of the most characteristic trees of the river-shore belong to these two families.
One of the most striking characteristics of the forest vegetation is the way in which many of the trunks of the trees are supported by buttresses. The huge sumaumera is especially remarkable; but this disposition to throw out supports is not confined to one tree. It occurs in many families. These buttresses start at a distance of about ten feet from the ground, separating greatly towards the base, where they are often ten to twelve feet in depth. The lower part of the trunk is thus divided into several open compartments, so large that, if roofed over, they would form a hut with sufficient space for two people to stand up or lie down in. Others, however, rise to the height of twenty or thirty feet, and run up in the form of ribs to forty or fifty feet. Other trees appear as if they were composed of a number of slender stalks bound together, and are ribbed to their entire height. In some places the furrows reach completely through them, and appear like the narrow windows of a tower. The stems of others again rise on the summit of numerous roots, like the bulging-stemmed palm, apparently standing on a number of legs at the height of a dozen feet or more from the ground. Often the roots thus form archways sufficiently large for a person to walk beneath.
Circling round the stems of trees in innumerable coils, and grasping them with a deadly embrace, grow in rich luxuriance countless wild vines, well meriting the name of murdering sipos. They hang in festoons from their boughs, and form an intricate tracery of network from tree to tree,—often of sufficient strength to support the falling monarchs of the forest when time has wrought decay among their roots.
Here are seen tillandsias and bromeliaceae, like the crowns of huge pineapples; large climbing arums, with their dark green and arrow-head shaped leaves, forming fantastic and graceful ornaments swinging in mid-air; while huge-leaved ferns and other parasites cling to the stems up to the very highest branches. These are again covered by other creeping plants; and thus we see parasites on parasites, and on these parasites again. As we gaze upwards, we see against the clear blue sky the finely divided foliage, many of the largest of the forest-trees having leaves as delicate as those of the trembling mimosa: among them appear the huge palmate leaves of the cecropias, and the oval glossy ones of the clusias, countless others of intermediate forms adding to the variety of its scenery,—the bright sunshine playing on the upper portion of the foliage, while a solemn gloom reigns among the dark columns which support this wondrous roof of verdure.
In truth, in these woods a thousand objects attract the eye, each a world of varied vegetation in itself; while the ear listens to the quick rustling breeze moving the palm-leaves fifty feet or more above the head,—not like the slow gathering, rushing wind among the pine-trees in northern climes, but like rapidly running water. Now an immense butterfly of the most vivid blue comes sailing by to alight on a neighbouring shrub, when, suddenly folding his azure wings out of sight, it looks merely like some brown moth spotted with white.
As evening comes on, in some districts a strange confusion of sounds is heard, as from a crowd of men shouting loudly at a distance. Now it seems like the barking of dogs, then like that of many voices calling in different keys, but all loud, varied, excited, full of emphasis; and yet, after all, the rioters are but the frogs and toads uttering their usual notes.
The Seringa or India-Rubber Tree.
Along the whole extent of the submerged region on the banks of the Amazon, beginning at a distance of about fifty miles from Para, as well as on the shores of many of its tributaries, grows a tree with bark and foliage not unlike that of the European ash. The trunk, however, shoots up to an immense height before throwing off branches. It is the valuable seringa-tree (Siphonia elastica), belonging to the family Euphorbia, which produces india-rubber. As soon as the waters after the rainy season have subsided, the natives go forth in parties to procure the sap with large bowls, claymoulds, pans in which to collect it, and axes for cutting the wood for their fires. They build their huts in the neighbourhood of the trees.
The first business is to make gashes in the bark, keeping them open by pegs, under which they place little clay cups, or shells. Each person has a certain number of trees under his charge. Every morning he goes round, and pours what has collected in the cups into a large bowl. The sap is at first of the consistency of cream, but it soon thickens. The moulds, which are generally in the form of bottles, are then dipped into the liquid. As soon as the coating is dried, the mould is again dipped in, and the same process is gone through for several days. The substance is at this time hard and white. Meantime fires are made with the nuts of several species of palms—the inaja and others. These produce a thick black smoke. The india-rubber is then passed several times through it. By this means a dark colour and the proper consistency are obtained. The moulds being broken, the clay is poured out, and the material is ready for the market.
Sometimes it is formed in large flat pieces; and of late years it has been preserved in a liquid state in hermetically closed vessels.
The seringa-tree differs greatly from the group of plants which furnish the caoutchouc of Africa and the West Indies; the latter being the product of certain species of ficus of a climbing character, and inferior to the india-rubber of South America.
Among the noblest of the forest monarchs appears a tree with deeply-scored reddish and ragged bark. Who wouldhave supposed that from that vast trunk would issue a milky liquid scarcely distinguishable at first from that of the cow? Yet such is the sap coming from the opening made by the axe from the massaranduba or cow-tree. When fresh it serves every purpose of real milk when mixed with coffee; but drunk pure has a somewhat coarse taste—and it is considered dangerous to drink much of it, however refreshing a small quantity may be. It soon thickens, and forms a tenacious glue, which can be usefully employed in cementing crockery. A decoction of the bark is employed as a red dye for cloth. The fruit, also, is largely consumed; while the wood is excessively durable in water.
Two lofty trees, closely allied to each other—the Lecythis ollaria and the Bertholletia excelsa—produce enormous capsules full of nuts. The first, called the sapucaya, yields these curious capsules known ascuyas de maccao, or monkeys’ drinking-cups. At the top is a circular hole, to which a natural lid fits exactly. On the nuts becoming ripe the lid is loosened, and the heavy cup falling to the ground, the nuts are scattered far and wide, when they are eaten by numerous animals on the watch for them. The collectors, therefore, have difficulty in obtaining them. The other tree, known as the Brazil-nut tree, produces similar wooden vessels; but as they have no lid, they fall entire to the ground, and are thus preserved till human beings come to collect them, when they are shipped to England and other parts of the world.
On the surface of the tranquil pools, amid the recesses of the forest, float the wide-spreading circular leaves of the magnificent Victoria regia, like vast dishes—their edges turned up all round—with beautiful flowers rising amid them. The colour varies from the velvety white outer petals through every shade of rose to the deepest crimson, and fading again to a creamy yellowish tint in the heart of the flower. The nativescall it theforno do piosoca, or oven of the jacana—the leaves being like that of the baking-pans, or ovens, on which the mandioca meal is roasted. The leaf rises from the root at the bottom of the pool, on a stock armed with sharp spines.
When young, the leaf may be seen in the form of a deep cup or vase surrounded with ribs, at that time comparatively small, the whole green expanse of the adult leaf covered in between them in regular rows of puffings. As the ribs grow their ramifications stretch out in every direction, the leaflets one by one unfolding to fill the ever-widening spaces; till at last, when it reaches the surface of the water, it rests horizontally above it without a wrinkle—the colossal leaf being thus supported by a heavy scaffold of ribs beneath it, sufficient not only to support the light-stepping jacana, but even a young child. Some of the leaves have a diameter of from four to five feet; some may grow even to a larger size.
“Here, seen in its own home, it has in addition to its own beauties the charm of harmony with all that surrounds it,” observes Mrs Agassiz,—“with the dense mass of forest, with palm and parasite, with birds of glowing plumage, with insects of all bright and wonderful tints, and with fishes which, though hid in the water beneath it, are not less brilliant and varied than the world of life above.”
Almost countless are the varieties of trees in the Amazonian forests, and wonderful the diversity in their combination. Rarely is the soil found occupied for any extent by the same kind of tree. A vast proportion are yet unknown to science. The palms surpass in number and variety all their sylvan brethren. They differ wonderfully in form and size: some, sturdy giants towering up towards the sky with wide-spreading branches; others, delicate little pigmies with slender stems and small broom-like crowns; while others assume the form of creepers, and wind in many folds round the supporting trunks of other trees.
“Among them are four essentially different forms:—the tall ones, with a slender and erect stem, terminating with a crown of long feathery leaves, or with broad fan-shaped leaves,” remarks Professor Agassiz; “the bushy ones, the leaves of which rise, as it were, in tufts from the ground, the stem remaining hidden under the foliage; the brush-like ones, with a small stem, and a few rather large leaves; and the winding, creeping, slender species. Their flowers and fronds are as varied as their stalks. Some of these fruits may be compared to large woody nuts with a fleshy mass inside, others have a scaly covering, others resemble peaches or apricots, while others, still, are like plums or grapes. Most of them are eatable, and rather pleasant to the taste.”
Among the most beautiful is the mauritia, or miriti, withpendent clusters of reddish fruit; its enormous, spreading, fan-like leaves cut into ribbons. Contrasted with it appears the manicaria, or the bussu, with stiff entire leaves, some thirty feet in length, almost upright, and very close in their mode of growth, and serrated all along their edges. The leaves all sprout from, a comparatively short stem.
More curious is the raphia, with plume-like leaves, sometimes from forty to fifty feet in length, starting also from a short stem—almost from the ground. Its vase-like form is peculiarly graceful and symmetrical.
Among the most curious is the pashiüba barrigudo, or bulging-stemmed palm (Iriartea ventricosa); which, rising on a pyramid of roots for several feet, runs up in a single column for some distance, and then swells in a curious spindle-form, again to assume the same proportions as below, till its head spreads out in several fan-like branches with web-shaped leaflets. The tree looks as if supported on stilts, and a person can stand upright among the roots of old trees with the perpendicular stem above his head. These roots have the form of straight rods, and are studded with stout thorns, whilst the trunk is quite smooth. The purpose of this curious arrangement is probably to recompense the tree by root-growth above the soil for its inability, in consequence of the competition of neighbouring roots, to extend itself underground.
Here, too, grows the slender and graceful assai-palm, with its perfectly smooth trunk,—the fruit appearing in a heavy cluster of berries just below the cluster of leaves on its summit. The stem is hard and tough as horn, and is much made use of, when split into narrow planks, for the construction of walls and flooring of houses.
The fruit is about the size of a cranberry, and of a dark brown colour. When boiled and crushed it yields a quantity of juice of about the consistency of chocolate, somewhat of the colour of blackberry juice, when it has a sweetish taste—and is eaten, made into cakes with the flour of the mandioca root. From it also is formed the favourite beverage of the people. To obtain the fruit, the native fastens a strip of palm-leaves round his instep, thus binding his feet together, to enable him to climb the slippery trunk, which he does with wonderful rapidity, to obtain the fruit at its summit.
Wherever a native village exists, there are seen growing in clusters, beautiful ornaments beside the palm-thatched huts, the tall and elegant pupunha, or peach palm—Guilielma speciosa—to the height of sixty feet, and often perfectly straight. A single bunch of the fruit weighs as much as a man can carry, and on each tree several are borne. It takes its name from the colour of the fruit, not from its flavour or nature, for it is dry and mealy, and may be compared in taste to a mixture of chestnuts and cheese. It is eagerly devoured by vultures, who come in quarrelsome flocks to the trees when it is ripe. Dogs often feed on it. It is one of the few trees which the natives brought with them, it is said, from their original home, and have here cultivated from time immemorial. The fruit, when boiled, is nearly as mealy as a potato; and in perfection is the size of a large peach. It is generally supposed that there is more nutriment in the fruit than in fish,—about a dozen forming a meal for a grown-up person. The leaves of its crown are evenly arched over, forming a deep green vault—the more beautiful from the rich colour of the foliage. When the heavy cluster of ripe red fruit hangs under its dark vault, the tree is in its greatest beauty.
The palms are among the most characteristic features of tropical scenery. The variety of their forms, fruit, foliage, and flowers is perfectly bewildering, and yet as a group their character is unmistakable. On the whole, no family of trees is more similar; generically and specifically, none is more varied. Their leaves follow the simple arrangement of those of grasses, in which the leaves are placed alternately on opposite sides of the stem, thus dividing the space round it in halves. As the stem of the branches elongates, these pairs of leaves are found scattered along its length, and it is only in the ears, or spikes of some genera, that we find them growing so compactly on the axis as to form a close head.
Of this law of growth the palm known as the baccaba is an admirable illustration, its leaves being disposed in pairs one above another at the summit of the stem, but in such immediate contact as to form a thick crown. Its appearance is in consequence totally different from any other palm, exceptperhaps the jacitara, which has a slender, winding stem. Sometimes the crown is more open, as in the inaja—Maximiliana regia—in which the stem is not very high, and the leaves grow in cycles of five, separating slightly, so as to form an open vase rising from a slender stem.
Professor Agassiz remarks that the rest of this tropical forest is as interesting to the geologist as to the botanist, as it reveals to him its relation to the vegetable world of past ages, showing those laws of growth which unite the past and the present.
The tree-ferns—the chamaerops, the pandanus, the araucarias—are modern representatives of past types. The former is a palm belonging to the ancient vegetable world, but having its representative in our days. The modern chamaerops, with its fan-like leaves spreading on one level, stands, with respect to its structure, lower than the palms with pinnate leaves, which belong almost exclusively to our geological age, and have numerous leaflets ranging along either side of a central axis. The young palms, while their elders tower fifty feet above them, are often not more than two inches high; and to whatever genus they may belong, invariably resemble the chamaerops,—having their leaves extending fan-like on one plane, instead of being scattered along a central axis, as in the adult tree. The infant palm is, in fact, the mature chamaerops in miniature; showing that among plants, as among animals—at least in some instances—there is a correspondence between the youngest stages of growth in the higher species of a given type, and the earliest introduction of that type on earth.
More gregarious in their habits than most other palms are the urucuri palms—Attalea excelsa—groves of which beautify the higher lands, and grow in vast numbers under the crowns of the more lofty ordinary forest-trees; their smooth columnar stems being generally fifty feet in height, while their broad, finely pinnated leaves, interlocking above, form arches and woven canopies of elegant and diversified shapes. The fruit, in size and shape like the date, has a pleasant flavoured juicy pulp, and falls to the ground when ripe.
Part 3—Chapter XVII.The Wonders of the Waters.The Manatee, or Cow-Fish.To maintain the claim of its ocean character, the Amazon possesses that huge, whale-like creature the manatee, or cow-fish, called by the Brazilianspeixe boi, orvacca marina. It is generally about seven or eight feet long, though it attains a length of ten feet or more, and nine feet and upwards in girth. On the upper part the body is perfectly smooth, and of a lead colour. It tapers off towards the tail, which is flat, horizontal, and semicircular, without any appearance of hind-limbs. The head is in reality small, and the neck undistinguishable; though it has an enormous mouth, with fleshy lips like those of a huge cow, with an ugly countenance. On the lips are stiff bristles, while a few hairs only are scattered over the body. Just behind the head are two powerful oval fins, beneath which, in the female, are the breasts. The ears are very minute holes, and the eyes are extremely small. The skin of the back is fully an inch thick; and beneath it is a layer of fat,also an inch or more in thickness. The fins of the fore-limbs consist of bones exactly corresponding to those of the human arm, with five fingers at the extremity—every joint distinct, although completely encased in its thick inflexible skin.The manatee ranges from the mouth of the Amazon to the upper waters. It feeds on the grass growing on the borders of the lakes and rivers. It swims at a rapid rate, moved by the tail and paddles. The creature is hunted and killed by the natives with harpoons, the flesh being much sought after. The taste is somewhat between that of pork and beef. The natives dress it by cutting the meat into small pieces and sticking them on skewers, which they place in a slanting position over the flames to roast.The female produces one, though sometimes two at a birth, which she holds in her paddles while giving suck. From twenty to twenty-five gallons of oil are obtained from each sea-cow. The poor manatee, little able to defend itself, has other enemies besides man. The jaguar lies in wait for it on the trunk of a tree overhanging the placid pool, and seizing it with his powerful claws as it swims by, holds it in a vice-like grasp, from which in spite of its strength it in vain endeavours to escape.Those who have voyaged on the ocean, know the solemn feeling and the idea of vastness which is conveyed during a calm at night, when monsters of the deep are heard far and near as they come to the surface to inhale the air, or “blow,” as it is called. The same feeling is experienced by the traveller up the Amazon when on board his montaria at anchor, when he hears the splashing and snorting sounds of its numerous inhabitants, as they rise through the mirror-like plain, in which countless thousands of bright stars are reflected. Here fresh-water dolphins roam in great numbers. In the Lower Amazon are two species; one of which,—the tucuxi,—when it comes to the surface to breathe, rises horizontally, showing first the back of its fin, and then, drawing an inspiration, generally diving down head-foremost; and another, called the bonto by the natives. When it rises, it first shows the top of the head, and then floating onwards, immediately afterwards dips its head downwards, its back curving over—exposing successively the whole dorsal ridge without showing the tail-fin; the well-known mode in which the sea-porpoise swims, which makes it appear to pitch head over heels. The natives regard the bonto or largest species with especial awe, and will never kill one voluntarily. Though their fat yields an excellent oil for lamps, they believe that blindness would result from its use.The bonto is supposed to possess the characteristic of the malign water-nymphs of the Old World. They have a legend that a bonto was in the custom of assuming the shape of a beautiful woman, with hair hanging loose down to her heels; who, going on shore, endeavoured to entice young men to the river. When any unhappy youth, smitten with her charms, was induced to follow her to the water’s edge, she would grasp her victim round the waist, and plunging beneath the waves with a triumphant shriek, disappeared with him for ever.Piranha.There are several kinds of piranha, many of which abound in the waters of the Tapajos. The piranha, called also the caribe, is a kind of salmon (Tetragonopterus). They are caught with any kind of bait, their taste being indiscriminate, and their appetite most ravenous. They frequently attack the legs of bathers near the shore, inflicting severe wounds with their strong triangular teeth.The Diodon.The smaller inhabitants of the ocean are also represented in these fresh-waters. The little mamayacú, a species of diodon, which in the ocean attains a foot in length, is found in the Amazon three or four inches long, of a pretty green colour, banded with black. On being caught—which it easily is—it becomes in the hand as round as a ball. The natives, when a person gets corpulent, tell him that he has grown as fat as a mamayacú.The ocean species, from having the skin about the abdomenlooser than that above, floats, when it becomes distended with air, with its back downwards. It can thus move about as rapidly as in its usual position, by aid of its pectoral fins. By the movement of its jaws it makes a curious noise, and can give with its sharp teeth a severe bite. The skin is also covered with small spikes, which, when thus inflated, become erect and pointed.It thus, though at first sight looking as helpless as can be, is well able to defend itself.The diodon has been known to be swallowed alive by a shark, in whose stomach it was found floating, probably supported by the air with which it had become inflated. It is asserted that it also frequently eats its way, not only through the coats of the shark’s stomach, but through the sides of the monster, which is thus killed. Probably the little diodon of the Amazon has a similar means of revenging itself on the voracious monsters to whom it falls a prey; and though it might not be able to liberate itself through the scaly back of an alligator, it would inevitably kill the monster, or cause him such pain as to make him repent having swallowed so indigestible a morsel.The magnificent pirarucú or anatto, of vast size, with its ornamental coat of mail, and broad large scales margined with bright red, peoples the waters in immense numbers. It is most frequently caught by the native fishermen; and when salted, forms the staple food of all classes on the banks of the Lower Amazon. It swims at great speed, and attains the length of eight feet when full-grown, and five feet in girth. The Indian name of pirarucú is given to it from the native wordspira, fish, andurucú, red; in allusion, says Mr Bates, to the red colour of the borders of its scales.Among the other fish most frequently caught are the surubim and piraepiéua (species of Pimelodus); very handsome fishes, four feet in length, with flat spoon-shaped heads, and prettily spotted and striped skins—two long feelers hanging from each side of their jaws like trailing moustaches.The Acara.The larger animals which inhabit the mighty river and the network of streams and pools which surround it on both sides, have been described; but numerous smaller creatures dwell within it, equally curious, and many totally unlike those to be found in other parts of the world. It has generally been supposed that, of all creatures, fish are the most destitute of parental feelings, and that from the moment the eggs have been deposited in the sand or mud, they are allowed to struggle into existence as best they can, to do battle with their foes, and the numerous dangers to which they are exposed. In the acara, however, we have an example of parental care and watchfulness unrivalled by any terrestrial animal.The male of this curious fish has a conspicuous protuberance on the forehead, wholly awanting in the female and the young. Somehow or other, the eggs of the female are conveyed into the mouth of the male, the bottom of which is lined by them, between the inner appendages of the branchial arches, and especially into a pouch formed by the upper pharyngeals, which they completely fill. They are there hatched; and the little ones, freed from the egg, are developed until they are in a condition to provide for their own existence. In their head there is a special lobe of the brain, similar to those of the triglas, which sends large nerves to that part of the gills protecting the young, thus connecting the care of the offspring with the organ of intelligence. In this curious cavity of the father’s head the young fish are found in all stages of development,—the more advanced, a quarter of an inch long, and able to swim about, full of life and activity. These appear to exist outside the gills, within the cavity formed by the gill-coverts and the wide branchiostigal membrane. The eggs remain in the back part of the gills.The parent’s care does not appear to cease even when the young are fully developed, but he allows them to swim in and out, and try their powers, if not to search for food; and when danger appears, opens his mouth, when they all swim back again in a shoal, for safety. The natives assert that some species, at all events, are not actually developed in the parent’s head, but are laid and hatched in the sand, the male and female watching carefully over them; and that the father only takes charge of them when they are hatched, and receives them within his mouth to protect them from danger. From the observations of Professor Agassiz, however, there is no doubt that in some species, at least, the whole process of development is begun and completed in the gill cavity.The species which lay their eggs in the sand belong to the genera Hydrogonus and Choetobranchus. They build a kind of flat nest in the sand or mud, in which they deposit their eggs, hovering over them until the young are hatched.Curious also is the little bill-fish—the lymnobellus—with its long beak.Another fish (the anojas), common in the Amazon, takes shelter—for it cannot be said to build a nest—in a hollow log. It belongs to the genus Auchenipterus. Numbers of this fish are found crowded in dead logs at the bottom of the river. One examined by the Professor, was filled with fish of all sizes, from those several inches long to the tiniest young. The fish were so dexterously packed into the log from one end to the other, that it was impossible to get them out without splitting it open, when they were all found alive and in a perfectly good condition. They could not have been jammed artificially into the hollow wood in that way without injuring them.Anableps.We have heard of blind fish, but here is one—called by the Indians tralhote, and known to naturalists as the Anableps tetraophthalmus, signifying “four-eyed”—possessing four eyes. A membraneous fold, enclosing the bulb of the eye, stretches across the pupil, dividing the visual apparatus into the upper and lower half; a curious formation, suited to the peculiar habits of the anableps. These fishes gather in shoals on the surface of the water, their heads resting partly above and partly below the surface, and they move by a leaping motion somewhat like that of frogs on land. Thus, half in and half out of the water, they require eyes adapted for seeing in both elements, and the arrangement described just meets this want.The Parrot-Fish.The birds of the air have, in this region, their representatives in the water. Among them is the curious and handsome pirarara, or parrot-fish. It is a heavy, broad-headed creature, with a bony shield over the whole head. Its general colour is jet-black, its bright yellow sides deepening into orange here and there. The yellow fat of this fish has a curious property. The Indians assert that when parrots are fed upon it they become tinged with yellow, and they often use it to render their papagaios more variegated.The Gymnotus.On the Amazonian waters is found the carapus, called by the Brazilians sarapo, belonging to the genus Gymnotus; though far smaller than the electric gymnotus. They are very numerous, and the most lively of the whole group. Their motions are winding and rapid, like those of the eel; but yet different, inasmuch as they do not glide quickly forward, but turn frequent somersaults, and constantly change their direction.Localisation of Fish.The researches of Professor Agassiz prove that the localisation of species of fish in these waters is peculiarly distinct and permanent, their migrations being very limited—consisting chiefly in removing from shallow to deeper waters, and from these to shallow again, at those seasons when the range of the shore in the same water-basin is affected by the rise and fall of the river. Thus, the fishes found at the bottom of a lake covering, perhaps, a square mile in extent when the waters are lowest, will appear near the shores of the same lake when, at the season of high-water, it extends over a much wider area. In the same way, fishes which gather near the mouth of a rivulet at the time of low-water, will be found as high as its origin at the period of high-water; and those which inhabit the larger igarapes on the sides of the Amazon, when they are swollen by the rise of the river, may be found in the Amazon itself when the stream is low. There is not a single fish known to ascend from the sea to the higher courses of the Amazon at certain seasons, and to return regularly to the ocean.The striking limitation of species within different areas does not, however, exclude the presence of certain kinds of fish simultaneously throughout the whole Amazonian basin. The piraracu, for instance, is found everywhere from Peru to Para; and so are a few other species more or less extensively distributed over what may be considered distinct ichthyological fauna. But these wide-spread species are not migratory. They have normally and permanently a wide range—just as some terrestrial animals have an almost cosmopolitan character—while others are circumscribed within comparatively narrow limits.Surprising indeed is the variety of species of fishes contained in the Amazonian basin. Professor Agassiz, during his expedition, collected nearly two thousand, “for the most part,” as he observes—and which is still more surprising—“circumscribed within different limits, from Tabalinga to Para, where the waters differ neither in temperature, nor in the nature of their bed, nor in the vegetation along their borders. There are met with, from distance to distance, assemblages of fishes completely distinct from each other.”Still more curious, perhaps, is the intensity with which life is manifested in these waters. All the rivers in Europe, from the Tagus to the Volga, do not nourish a hundred and fifty species of fresh-water fishes; and yet in a little lake near Manaos, called Lago Hyanuary, the surface of which hardly covers four or five hundred square yards, more than two hundred distinct species were discovered, the greater part of which have not been observed elsewhere.Gymnotus, or Electric Eel.In the forest pools, as well as in the marshy ponds and slow-flowing rivers of the Llanos, numbers of huge serpentlike heads may be seen bobbing above the surface; or a huge, thick-bodied, yellow, snake-like creature may be caught sight of gliding through the water. It is the gymnotus electricus, or electric eel,—one of the many curious inhabitants of this region,—from two to five, and even eight feet in length. Though really a fish, it resembles the eel, but is stouter in its proportions. It is nearly equal in thickness throughout. It has a rude, depressed, and obtuse head, and a compressed tail. So great is the electric power it possesses, that when in full vigour it is able to kill the largest animal, when it can unload its electric organs in a favourable direction. All other fish, knowing by instinct the deadly effects of its stroke, fly from the formidable gymnotus. When fish are struck, or any animals which enter the pools inhabited by gymnoti—to drink, or cool their bodies, heated by the burning sun of the Llanos—they become stupified, and thus easily fall a prey to the electrical tyrant.The natives of Venezuela employ a cruel mode of catching the creatures, which, notwithstanding their nature, they use as food. Placing but little value on mules and horses, they collect a number of these animals, and, armed with harpoons and long slender rods, drive them with shouts towards a pool inhabited by gymnoti. The noise of the horses’ hoofs and the men’s shrieks make the fish issue from the mud, when the huge, hideous creatures swim on the surface of the water, and crowd under the bellies of the horses and mules. Some of the Indians climb the trees; others stand round the margin, urging forward the unfortunate animals, and preventing them from making their escape. The fish defend themselves by frequent discharges of their electric batteries. At first they seem likely to prove victorious. Some of the quadrupeds sink beneath the violence of the invisible strokes which they receive from all sides, and, stunned by the force and frequency of the shocks, disappear under water; others, with their manes erect and eye-balls wild with pain, strive to escape the electric storm which they have aroused, but are driven back by the shouts and long whips of the excited Indians. The livid, yellow eels, like great water-snakes, swim near the surface and pursue their enemy. After the conflict has lasted a quarter of an hour or so, the mules and horses appear less alarmed. They no longer erect their manes, and their eyes express less pain and terror. The eel-like creatures, instead of advancing as at first, swim to the shore, when the Indians attack them with their harpoons, and by means of a long cord attached to it, jerk the fish out of the water, without receiving any shock, as long as the cord remains dry.Such is the description given by Humboldt, a witness of the extraordinary scene. The employment of their electricpowers is evidently spontaneous, and exhausts the nervous energy. Like voluntary muscular effort, it needs repose, and the creatures require an abundance of nourishment and rest before a fresh accumulation of electricity is produced.In the dry season they form deep circular holes for themselves in the mud of water-courses, and marshes which remain filled with moisture, and they are thus able to support existence in their usual localities, while alligators and turtles have to retire to the larger pools or rivers. In the shallow ponds of the forest they are easily driven out with long poles.Bates amused his native companions, who had thus caught some of the creatures, by showing them how the electric shock could pass from one person to another. They joined hands in a line, while he touched the biggest and freshest of the animals on the head with the point of his hunting-knife. He found, however, that the experiment did not succeed more than three times with the same eel when out of the water, for the fourth time the shock was scarcely perceptible.The limbs even of the strongest man are benumbed, and he is struck down helpless, by a discharge from the battery of the gymnotus. The organs which produce this curious electrical effect are placed along the under side of the tail. They may be compared to a series of columns inclosed in a thin membrane packed closely together, which, consisting of a series of fiat discs, may be imitated by placing a number of coins with their discs parallel to each other, and with a bladder between each, separated by a gelatinous substance. These columns are technically called septa; and La Cepède calculates that two hundred and forty transverse membranes are packed in each inch, thereby giving to an electric eel eight feet in length an organ cavity of two hundred and forty-six square feet—an enormous extent, as may be supposed, of electricity producing surface. The whole apparatus is supplied with nerves which run through the entire length of the body.Sting-Rays.A fresh-water species of sting-ray is an inhabitant of the creeks and lagoons of stagnant water; and so infested are some of them with the creatures, that it is almost certain destruction to venture into them. The sting-ray is circular and flat, with a tail above a foot in length, very thick at the base, and tapering towards the end. Near the middle, on the upper part, it is armed with a long and sharp-pointed sting, finely serrated on two sides, which the fish can raise or depress at will. When disturbed, by a quick movement of the tail out darts its sting towards the object, which it seldom fails to reach. The wound thus inflicted is so severe that the whole nervous system is convulsed, the person becoming rigid and benumbed in a few moments. Long after the most violent effects of the wound have subsided, the part affected retains a sluggish ulceration, which has often baffled the skill of the best surgeons.They frequent the shallow banks of muddy pools, where they may be constantly seen watching for their prey, and, as if conscious of their powers, scarcely deign to move off when approached. They have their enemies in vultures and other birds of prey; and as they are considered fit for food, war with spear and talon is constantly waged upon them.Serrosalmus Piraya.In the Orinoco another dangerous creature exists, called by the natives piraya, with a head shaped somewhat like a sabre. The lower jaw is furnished with a formidable pair of fangs, not unlike those of the rattlesnake. With these it inflicts a gash as smooth as if cut with a razor.The Caribe.Every feature of the savage caribe denotes the ferocity and sanguinary nature of its tastes. The piercing eye, surrounded by a bloody-looking ring, is expressive of its cruel and bloodthirsty disposition. Its under jaw, lined with a thick cartilaginous membrane, adds greatly to its strength, protruding considerably beyond the upper, and increasing the ferocious expression of its countenance. Large spots of a brilliant orange hue cover a great portion of its body. Towards the back it is of a bluish ash colour, with a slight tint of olive-green; the intermediate spaces being of pearly white, while the gill-coverts are tinged with red.So sharp are its triangular teeth, arranged like those of the shark, that neither twine, copper, nor steel can withstand them. At the sight of any red substance, blood especially, they swim forward to the attack; and as they usually move in swarms, it is extremely dangerous for man or beast to enter the water with even a scratch upon their bodies. Horses wounded by the spur are particularly exposed to their attacks when fording a stream; and so rapid is the work of destruction, that unless immediate assistance is rendered, the fish soon penetrate the abdomen of the animal and destroy it: hence the name given to them by the Spaniards means “tripe-eater.” When a net is drawn on shore, numbers of these little pests are seen jumping in the crowd, their jaws wide open, tearing whatever comes in their way, and especially the meshes of the nets, which they soon render useless.Some tribes of natives place their dead in the water, when these creatures speedily eat the flesh off the bones, which are then preserved in baskets.Even human beings, when bathing, or fording rivers, are attacked by these terrible little cannibals;—for cannibals they are, as, whenever any of their own race are killed, they instantly attack and devour them.There are other species of this fish,—among them the black caribe of the Orinoco. There is also a small species—a harmless, pretty little fish, of a bright green colour on the back, and a white belly streaked with pink. The teeth are used by the Macoushi Indians for sharpening the points of their poisoned arrows. This they do by drawing them rapidly between two of the teeth, in the way that knives are sharpened by two circular steel files, now in common use.Adaptation of Animals to their destined Mode of Existence.Strange and unfitted for existence as are many of the animals formed by the Almighty to the short-seeing eye of mortals, on a further acquaintance with them all will be discovered admirably suited to the life they are destined to enjoy. Following Waterton, we may take five as an example. The sloth, which has four feet, is unable to use them to support his body on the earth. They are destitute of soles, and the muscles requisite for progress in a perpendicular position; yet no creature is more thoroughly at home when clinging to the trees on which it has been created to exist. The ant-bear, without a tooth in his head, roves fearlessly in the forests inhabited by the jaguar and boa-constrictor. The sharp claws of his fore-feet enable him to confront the former, and his powerful muscular body and thick hair set even the boa at defiance. The vampire is unable to use his feet for walking, but he possesses a membrane, stretched by means of his legs, which enables him to mount up into an element where no other quadruped can follow. The armadillo, without fur or wool or bristles, has in their stead a movable shell placed on his back, so formed that he can roll himself up in a ball, while with his sharp claws he can dig rapidly into the earth to escape his foes. The tortoise is compelled to accommodate itself to the shell, which is hard and inflexible, and in no way obedient to the will of its bearer; yet that very shell, although so apparently inconvenient, serves as its protection. The turtle is protected in the same way; but its delicious flesh brings numerous enemies to attack it, from whom it has a hard task to escape. The egg of the tortoise, it may be remarked, has a very hard shell; while that of the turtle is quite soft.
To maintain the claim of its ocean character, the Amazon possesses that huge, whale-like creature the manatee, or cow-fish, called by the Brazilianspeixe boi, orvacca marina. It is generally about seven or eight feet long, though it attains a length of ten feet or more, and nine feet and upwards in girth. On the upper part the body is perfectly smooth, and of a lead colour. It tapers off towards the tail, which is flat, horizontal, and semicircular, without any appearance of hind-limbs. The head is in reality small, and the neck undistinguishable; though it has an enormous mouth, with fleshy lips like those of a huge cow, with an ugly countenance. On the lips are stiff bristles, while a few hairs only are scattered over the body. Just behind the head are two powerful oval fins, beneath which, in the female, are the breasts. The ears are very minute holes, and the eyes are extremely small. The skin of the back is fully an inch thick; and beneath it is a layer of fat,also an inch or more in thickness. The fins of the fore-limbs consist of bones exactly corresponding to those of the human arm, with five fingers at the extremity—every joint distinct, although completely encased in its thick inflexible skin.
The manatee ranges from the mouth of the Amazon to the upper waters. It feeds on the grass growing on the borders of the lakes and rivers. It swims at a rapid rate, moved by the tail and paddles. The creature is hunted and killed by the natives with harpoons, the flesh being much sought after. The taste is somewhat between that of pork and beef. The natives dress it by cutting the meat into small pieces and sticking them on skewers, which they place in a slanting position over the flames to roast.
The female produces one, though sometimes two at a birth, which she holds in her paddles while giving suck. From twenty to twenty-five gallons of oil are obtained from each sea-cow. The poor manatee, little able to defend itself, has other enemies besides man. The jaguar lies in wait for it on the trunk of a tree overhanging the placid pool, and seizing it with his powerful claws as it swims by, holds it in a vice-like grasp, from which in spite of its strength it in vain endeavours to escape.
Those who have voyaged on the ocean, know the solemn feeling and the idea of vastness which is conveyed during a calm at night, when monsters of the deep are heard far and near as they come to the surface to inhale the air, or “blow,” as it is called. The same feeling is experienced by the traveller up the Amazon when on board his montaria at anchor, when he hears the splashing and snorting sounds of its numerous inhabitants, as they rise through the mirror-like plain, in which countless thousands of bright stars are reflected. Here fresh-water dolphins roam in great numbers. In the Lower Amazon are two species; one of which,—the tucuxi,—when it comes to the surface to breathe, rises horizontally, showing first the back of its fin, and then, drawing an inspiration, generally diving down head-foremost; and another, called the bonto by the natives. When it rises, it first shows the top of the head, and then floating onwards, immediately afterwards dips its head downwards, its back curving over—exposing successively the whole dorsal ridge without showing the tail-fin; the well-known mode in which the sea-porpoise swims, which makes it appear to pitch head over heels. The natives regard the bonto or largest species with especial awe, and will never kill one voluntarily. Though their fat yields an excellent oil for lamps, they believe that blindness would result from its use.
The bonto is supposed to possess the characteristic of the malign water-nymphs of the Old World. They have a legend that a bonto was in the custom of assuming the shape of a beautiful woman, with hair hanging loose down to her heels; who, going on shore, endeavoured to entice young men to the river. When any unhappy youth, smitten with her charms, was induced to follow her to the water’s edge, she would grasp her victim round the waist, and plunging beneath the waves with a triumphant shriek, disappeared with him for ever.
There are several kinds of piranha, many of which abound in the waters of the Tapajos. The piranha, called also the caribe, is a kind of salmon (Tetragonopterus). They are caught with any kind of bait, their taste being indiscriminate, and their appetite most ravenous. They frequently attack the legs of bathers near the shore, inflicting severe wounds with their strong triangular teeth.
The smaller inhabitants of the ocean are also represented in these fresh-waters. The little mamayacú, a species of diodon, which in the ocean attains a foot in length, is found in the Amazon three or four inches long, of a pretty green colour, banded with black. On being caught—which it easily is—it becomes in the hand as round as a ball. The natives, when a person gets corpulent, tell him that he has grown as fat as a mamayacú.
The ocean species, from having the skin about the abdomenlooser than that above, floats, when it becomes distended with air, with its back downwards. It can thus move about as rapidly as in its usual position, by aid of its pectoral fins. By the movement of its jaws it makes a curious noise, and can give with its sharp teeth a severe bite. The skin is also covered with small spikes, which, when thus inflated, become erect and pointed.
It thus, though at first sight looking as helpless as can be, is well able to defend itself.
The diodon has been known to be swallowed alive by a shark, in whose stomach it was found floating, probably supported by the air with which it had become inflated. It is asserted that it also frequently eats its way, not only through the coats of the shark’s stomach, but through the sides of the monster, which is thus killed. Probably the little diodon of the Amazon has a similar means of revenging itself on the voracious monsters to whom it falls a prey; and though it might not be able to liberate itself through the scaly back of an alligator, it would inevitably kill the monster, or cause him such pain as to make him repent having swallowed so indigestible a morsel.
The magnificent pirarucú or anatto, of vast size, with its ornamental coat of mail, and broad large scales margined with bright red, peoples the waters in immense numbers. It is most frequently caught by the native fishermen; and when salted, forms the staple food of all classes on the banks of the Lower Amazon. It swims at great speed, and attains the length of eight feet when full-grown, and five feet in girth. The Indian name of pirarucú is given to it from the native wordspira, fish, andurucú, red; in allusion, says Mr Bates, to the red colour of the borders of its scales.
Among the other fish most frequently caught are the surubim and piraepiéua (species of Pimelodus); very handsome fishes, four feet in length, with flat spoon-shaped heads, and prettily spotted and striped skins—two long feelers hanging from each side of their jaws like trailing moustaches.
The larger animals which inhabit the mighty river and the network of streams and pools which surround it on both sides, have been described; but numerous smaller creatures dwell within it, equally curious, and many totally unlike those to be found in other parts of the world. It has generally been supposed that, of all creatures, fish are the most destitute of parental feelings, and that from the moment the eggs have been deposited in the sand or mud, they are allowed to struggle into existence as best they can, to do battle with their foes, and the numerous dangers to which they are exposed. In the acara, however, we have an example of parental care and watchfulness unrivalled by any terrestrial animal.
The male of this curious fish has a conspicuous protuberance on the forehead, wholly awanting in the female and the young. Somehow or other, the eggs of the female are conveyed into the mouth of the male, the bottom of which is lined by them, between the inner appendages of the branchial arches, and especially into a pouch formed by the upper pharyngeals, which they completely fill. They are there hatched; and the little ones, freed from the egg, are developed until they are in a condition to provide for their own existence. In their head there is a special lobe of the brain, similar to those of the triglas, which sends large nerves to that part of the gills protecting the young, thus connecting the care of the offspring with the organ of intelligence. In this curious cavity of the father’s head the young fish are found in all stages of development,—the more advanced, a quarter of an inch long, and able to swim about, full of life and activity. These appear to exist outside the gills, within the cavity formed by the gill-coverts and the wide branchiostigal membrane. The eggs remain in the back part of the gills.
The parent’s care does not appear to cease even when the young are fully developed, but he allows them to swim in and out, and try their powers, if not to search for food; and when danger appears, opens his mouth, when they all swim back again in a shoal, for safety. The natives assert that some species, at all events, are not actually developed in the parent’s head, but are laid and hatched in the sand, the male and female watching carefully over them; and that the father only takes charge of them when they are hatched, and receives them within his mouth to protect them from danger. From the observations of Professor Agassiz, however, there is no doubt that in some species, at least, the whole process of development is begun and completed in the gill cavity.
The species which lay their eggs in the sand belong to the genera Hydrogonus and Choetobranchus. They build a kind of flat nest in the sand or mud, in which they deposit their eggs, hovering over them until the young are hatched.
Curious also is the little bill-fish—the lymnobellus—with its long beak.
Another fish (the anojas), common in the Amazon, takes shelter—for it cannot be said to build a nest—in a hollow log. It belongs to the genus Auchenipterus. Numbers of this fish are found crowded in dead logs at the bottom of the river. One examined by the Professor, was filled with fish of all sizes, from those several inches long to the tiniest young. The fish were so dexterously packed into the log from one end to the other, that it was impossible to get them out without splitting it open, when they were all found alive and in a perfectly good condition. They could not have been jammed artificially into the hollow wood in that way without injuring them.
We have heard of blind fish, but here is one—called by the Indians tralhote, and known to naturalists as the Anableps tetraophthalmus, signifying “four-eyed”—possessing four eyes. A membraneous fold, enclosing the bulb of the eye, stretches across the pupil, dividing the visual apparatus into the upper and lower half; a curious formation, suited to the peculiar habits of the anableps. These fishes gather in shoals on the surface of the water, their heads resting partly above and partly below the surface, and they move by a leaping motion somewhat like that of frogs on land. Thus, half in and half out of the water, they require eyes adapted for seeing in both elements, and the arrangement described just meets this want.
The birds of the air have, in this region, their representatives in the water. Among them is the curious and handsome pirarara, or parrot-fish. It is a heavy, broad-headed creature, with a bony shield over the whole head. Its general colour is jet-black, its bright yellow sides deepening into orange here and there. The yellow fat of this fish has a curious property. The Indians assert that when parrots are fed upon it they become tinged with yellow, and they often use it to render their papagaios more variegated.
On the Amazonian waters is found the carapus, called by the Brazilians sarapo, belonging to the genus Gymnotus; though far smaller than the electric gymnotus. They are very numerous, and the most lively of the whole group. Their motions are winding and rapid, like those of the eel; but yet different, inasmuch as they do not glide quickly forward, but turn frequent somersaults, and constantly change their direction.
The researches of Professor Agassiz prove that the localisation of species of fish in these waters is peculiarly distinct and permanent, their migrations being very limited—consisting chiefly in removing from shallow to deeper waters, and from these to shallow again, at those seasons when the range of the shore in the same water-basin is affected by the rise and fall of the river. Thus, the fishes found at the bottom of a lake covering, perhaps, a square mile in extent when the waters are lowest, will appear near the shores of the same lake when, at the season of high-water, it extends over a much wider area. In the same way, fishes which gather near the mouth of a rivulet at the time of low-water, will be found as high as its origin at the period of high-water; and those which inhabit the larger igarapes on the sides of the Amazon, when they are swollen by the rise of the river, may be found in the Amazon itself when the stream is low. There is not a single fish known to ascend from the sea to the higher courses of the Amazon at certain seasons, and to return regularly to the ocean.
The striking limitation of species within different areas does not, however, exclude the presence of certain kinds of fish simultaneously throughout the whole Amazonian basin. The piraracu, for instance, is found everywhere from Peru to Para; and so are a few other species more or less extensively distributed over what may be considered distinct ichthyological fauna. But these wide-spread species are not migratory. They have normally and permanently a wide range—just as some terrestrial animals have an almost cosmopolitan character—while others are circumscribed within comparatively narrow limits.
Surprising indeed is the variety of species of fishes contained in the Amazonian basin. Professor Agassiz, during his expedition, collected nearly two thousand, “for the most part,” as he observes—and which is still more surprising—“circumscribed within different limits, from Tabalinga to Para, where the waters differ neither in temperature, nor in the nature of their bed, nor in the vegetation along their borders. There are met with, from distance to distance, assemblages of fishes completely distinct from each other.”
Still more curious, perhaps, is the intensity with which life is manifested in these waters. All the rivers in Europe, from the Tagus to the Volga, do not nourish a hundred and fifty species of fresh-water fishes; and yet in a little lake near Manaos, called Lago Hyanuary, the surface of which hardly covers four or five hundred square yards, more than two hundred distinct species were discovered, the greater part of which have not been observed elsewhere.
In the forest pools, as well as in the marshy ponds and slow-flowing rivers of the Llanos, numbers of huge serpentlike heads may be seen bobbing above the surface; or a huge, thick-bodied, yellow, snake-like creature may be caught sight of gliding through the water. It is the gymnotus electricus, or electric eel,—one of the many curious inhabitants of this region,—from two to five, and even eight feet in length. Though really a fish, it resembles the eel, but is stouter in its proportions. It is nearly equal in thickness throughout. It has a rude, depressed, and obtuse head, and a compressed tail. So great is the electric power it possesses, that when in full vigour it is able to kill the largest animal, when it can unload its electric organs in a favourable direction. All other fish, knowing by instinct the deadly effects of its stroke, fly from the formidable gymnotus. When fish are struck, or any animals which enter the pools inhabited by gymnoti—to drink, or cool their bodies, heated by the burning sun of the Llanos—they become stupified, and thus easily fall a prey to the electrical tyrant.
The natives of Venezuela employ a cruel mode of catching the creatures, which, notwithstanding their nature, they use as food. Placing but little value on mules and horses, they collect a number of these animals, and, armed with harpoons and long slender rods, drive them with shouts towards a pool inhabited by gymnoti. The noise of the horses’ hoofs and the men’s shrieks make the fish issue from the mud, when the huge, hideous creatures swim on the surface of the water, and crowd under the bellies of the horses and mules. Some of the Indians climb the trees; others stand round the margin, urging forward the unfortunate animals, and preventing them from making their escape. The fish defend themselves by frequent discharges of their electric batteries. At first they seem likely to prove victorious. Some of the quadrupeds sink beneath the violence of the invisible strokes which they receive from all sides, and, stunned by the force and frequency of the shocks, disappear under water; others, with their manes erect and eye-balls wild with pain, strive to escape the electric storm which they have aroused, but are driven back by the shouts and long whips of the excited Indians. The livid, yellow eels, like great water-snakes, swim near the surface and pursue their enemy. After the conflict has lasted a quarter of an hour or so, the mules and horses appear less alarmed. They no longer erect their manes, and their eyes express less pain and terror. The eel-like creatures, instead of advancing as at first, swim to the shore, when the Indians attack them with their harpoons, and by means of a long cord attached to it, jerk the fish out of the water, without receiving any shock, as long as the cord remains dry.
Such is the description given by Humboldt, a witness of the extraordinary scene. The employment of their electricpowers is evidently spontaneous, and exhausts the nervous energy. Like voluntary muscular effort, it needs repose, and the creatures require an abundance of nourishment and rest before a fresh accumulation of electricity is produced.
In the dry season they form deep circular holes for themselves in the mud of water-courses, and marshes which remain filled with moisture, and they are thus able to support existence in their usual localities, while alligators and turtles have to retire to the larger pools or rivers. In the shallow ponds of the forest they are easily driven out with long poles.
Bates amused his native companions, who had thus caught some of the creatures, by showing them how the electric shock could pass from one person to another. They joined hands in a line, while he touched the biggest and freshest of the animals on the head with the point of his hunting-knife. He found, however, that the experiment did not succeed more than three times with the same eel when out of the water, for the fourth time the shock was scarcely perceptible.
The limbs even of the strongest man are benumbed, and he is struck down helpless, by a discharge from the battery of the gymnotus. The organs which produce this curious electrical effect are placed along the under side of the tail. They may be compared to a series of columns inclosed in a thin membrane packed closely together, which, consisting of a series of fiat discs, may be imitated by placing a number of coins with their discs parallel to each other, and with a bladder between each, separated by a gelatinous substance. These columns are technically called septa; and La Cepède calculates that two hundred and forty transverse membranes are packed in each inch, thereby giving to an electric eel eight feet in length an organ cavity of two hundred and forty-six square feet—an enormous extent, as may be supposed, of electricity producing surface. The whole apparatus is supplied with nerves which run through the entire length of the body.
A fresh-water species of sting-ray is an inhabitant of the creeks and lagoons of stagnant water; and so infested are some of them with the creatures, that it is almost certain destruction to venture into them. The sting-ray is circular and flat, with a tail above a foot in length, very thick at the base, and tapering towards the end. Near the middle, on the upper part, it is armed with a long and sharp-pointed sting, finely serrated on two sides, which the fish can raise or depress at will. When disturbed, by a quick movement of the tail out darts its sting towards the object, which it seldom fails to reach. The wound thus inflicted is so severe that the whole nervous system is convulsed, the person becoming rigid and benumbed in a few moments. Long after the most violent effects of the wound have subsided, the part affected retains a sluggish ulceration, which has often baffled the skill of the best surgeons.
They frequent the shallow banks of muddy pools, where they may be constantly seen watching for their prey, and, as if conscious of their powers, scarcely deign to move off when approached. They have their enemies in vultures and other birds of prey; and as they are considered fit for food, war with spear and talon is constantly waged upon them.
In the Orinoco another dangerous creature exists, called by the natives piraya, with a head shaped somewhat like a sabre. The lower jaw is furnished with a formidable pair of fangs, not unlike those of the rattlesnake. With these it inflicts a gash as smooth as if cut with a razor.
Every feature of the savage caribe denotes the ferocity and sanguinary nature of its tastes. The piercing eye, surrounded by a bloody-looking ring, is expressive of its cruel and bloodthirsty disposition. Its under jaw, lined with a thick cartilaginous membrane, adds greatly to its strength, protruding considerably beyond the upper, and increasing the ferocious expression of its countenance. Large spots of a brilliant orange hue cover a great portion of its body. Towards the back it is of a bluish ash colour, with a slight tint of olive-green; the intermediate spaces being of pearly white, while the gill-coverts are tinged with red.
So sharp are its triangular teeth, arranged like those of the shark, that neither twine, copper, nor steel can withstand them. At the sight of any red substance, blood especially, they swim forward to the attack; and as they usually move in swarms, it is extremely dangerous for man or beast to enter the water with even a scratch upon their bodies. Horses wounded by the spur are particularly exposed to their attacks when fording a stream; and so rapid is the work of destruction, that unless immediate assistance is rendered, the fish soon penetrate the abdomen of the animal and destroy it: hence the name given to them by the Spaniards means “tripe-eater.” When a net is drawn on shore, numbers of these little pests are seen jumping in the crowd, their jaws wide open, tearing whatever comes in their way, and especially the meshes of the nets, which they soon render useless.
Some tribes of natives place their dead in the water, when these creatures speedily eat the flesh off the bones, which are then preserved in baskets.
Even human beings, when bathing, or fording rivers, are attacked by these terrible little cannibals;—for cannibals they are, as, whenever any of their own race are killed, they instantly attack and devour them.
There are other species of this fish,—among them the black caribe of the Orinoco. There is also a small species—a harmless, pretty little fish, of a bright green colour on the back, and a white belly streaked with pink. The teeth are used by the Macoushi Indians for sharpening the points of their poisoned arrows. This they do by drawing them rapidly between two of the teeth, in the way that knives are sharpened by two circular steel files, now in common use.
Strange and unfitted for existence as are many of the animals formed by the Almighty to the short-seeing eye of mortals, on a further acquaintance with them all will be discovered admirably suited to the life they are destined to enjoy. Following Waterton, we may take five as an example. The sloth, which has four feet, is unable to use them to support his body on the earth. They are destitute of soles, and the muscles requisite for progress in a perpendicular position; yet no creature is more thoroughly at home when clinging to the trees on which it has been created to exist. The ant-bear, without a tooth in his head, roves fearlessly in the forests inhabited by the jaguar and boa-constrictor. The sharp claws of his fore-feet enable him to confront the former, and his powerful muscular body and thick hair set even the boa at defiance. The vampire is unable to use his feet for walking, but he possesses a membrane, stretched by means of his legs, which enables him to mount up into an element where no other quadruped can follow. The armadillo, without fur or wool or bristles, has in their stead a movable shell placed on his back, so formed that he can roll himself up in a ball, while with his sharp claws he can dig rapidly into the earth to escape his foes. The tortoise is compelled to accommodate itself to the shell, which is hard and inflexible, and in no way obedient to the will of its bearer; yet that very shell, although so apparently inconvenient, serves as its protection. The turtle is protected in the same way; but its delicious flesh brings numerous enemies to attack it, from whom it has a hard task to escape. The egg of the tortoise, it may be remarked, has a very hard shell; while that of the turtle is quite soft.