VISIT TO A CAVERN.
Visit to a Cavern—The Guacharos—Night sounds—Return—An alarm—My escape—Thanks for deliverance.
Visit to a Cavern—The Guacharos—Night sounds—Return—An alarm—My escape—Thanks for deliverance.
One evening, during my journey, having refreshed myself with some of the fruit that grew near me—for I always found food enough in South America, even in the forests—I took a fancy to explore a cavern that I saw in the rock, near which a cascade tumbled. Resolving to be well prepared for any enemy I might meet with, I took my gun with me.
I ought to tell you, by the way, that after I lost my mule, I was obliged for some time to content myself with a horse. I left him grazing at the foot of a bark tree. You have heard of the Peruvian bark, which is used so much in medicine, I dare say. I tied my horse, then, to a tree, which produces this sort of bark.
Well, all things prepared, I set out on my expedition. As I drew near the lofty cavern, I was astonished at thedeafening noise of innumerable wings, and looking up in the uncertain twilight, I saw hundreds—I think I might say thousands—of birds flying about, preparing to leave their home, in search of food. They were theguacharos. I had read of them in Humboldt’s narrative, but to use the sailor phrase, I had never before ‘run foul’ of any of them. They are night birds, that somewhat resemble our owls, but instead of roosting on trees, these creatures build in caverns. A sight of them is well worth the trouble and danger of exploring one of these dark and gloomy mansions. Their noise is prodigious!
In fact, one of the most wonderful things a traveller meets with in South America, is the different and strange sounds at night. The howling monkeys, the night-birds, the sharp cries of the jaguars, the roar of the pumas, the flapping of wings, the rustling of branches, and other noises, are astonishing!
How different from the lone solitude of our woods in New England, where the only sound, perhaps, that disturbs the silence of the night, is the distant hooting of the owl, or the howling of some dog. Indeed, the greater part of the time, every creature is so silent that you would scarcely know that any living thing was waking.
Well, I stayed so long in the bird cavern, that it was quite dark when I got back to my horse, and I had not yet made up my nightly fire. So I groped round in the dark and collected, as well as I could, some leaves and sticks, and began to kindle my fire. But just as I was kneeling down to blow at the heap of fuel I had lighted, my horse suddenly started, drew back to the full length of his cord, rolled his eyes, enlarged his nostrils, threw his ears forward, erected his main and tail, and stood there the very picture of terror. “There is danger now,” thought I; but I was resolved to meet it. So I jumped up instantly, and looking into the gloom, in the direction which my horse’s eyes took, I saw a dark mass of something moving slowly along among the bushes.
I was up the tree instantly, I assure you, taking with me my gun, which I had rested against its trunk. For a minute or two all was quiet. Soon, however, the dark body approached a little nearer, but so quietly, that I should have thought very little more of it, had not my horse shown symptoms of so much alarm. I levelled my piece and fired, and, as I suppose, wounded the animal; for he bounded up, and darted off into the thicket.
Just at this moment the fire burst into a bright blaze, which kept the wild animals away for the rest of that night. I did not rest or sleep very well, however, for I had used the rope that I commonly tied myself with, to fasten my horse. One thing, however, you may easily suppose, I did not forget to do; which was to give thanks to my great Preserver, who ‘guides the helm’, as we sailors say, by land, as well as by sea.