CHAPTER VIII

ACROSS THE ANTIOQUIAN GOLD-FIELDS TO PUERTO VALDIVIA ON THE LOWER CAUCA

Puerto Berrio is not the most attractive spot in Colombia, but it is nevertheless of a great deal of importance. All steamers plying on the Lower Magdalena stop at that port, the up-going ones after a six days’ voyage from Barranquilla to discharge freight for Medellin, and those bound down-stream to take aboard gold and other products of the Antioquian highlands.

The arrival of the steamer always causes a great deal of confusion. Debarking passengers are required to look after their own luggage, which is not a simple matter, as it is invariably covered with mountains of boxes and bags on the lower deck; and after it has been located it is necessary to secure _peons_ to convey it ashore, the ship’s crew invariably refusing to render this service.

There is always a rush for the little hotel “Magdalena,” built on a slight bluff overlooking the river. Accommodations are limited, and those who arrive first naturally have the advantage of selecting the cooler rooms in the upper story. However, the advantages gained are partly imaginary, at best. The climate is insufferably hot in the daytime, and mosquitoes filtering through rents in the nets protecting the beds are most annoying at night. Nor is it possible to seek the cooling comfort of a bath; a small, corrugated iron building in the garden is supposed to provide for this need, but a tank containing water for the shower is placed on the roof in the full glare of the tropical sun, and the water becomes heated to such a degree that it is almost scalding.

The town of Puerto Berrio is situated a few hundred yards below the landing. It contains about a hundred low buildings, many of which are utilized for shops where merchandise and, more important at least to transients, a great variety of fruit may be had. All the buildings are low--some constructed of adobe with red tile roofs, others of nothing more substantial than bamboo, and grass or palm-leaves.

Beyond the town is a low, rambling shed used as a slaughter-house. When one tires of watching the blue tanagers, orioles, and yellow warblers quarrel in the cocoanut-palms near the hotel, he may tempt his æsthetic taste by walking to the pavilion of bovine death, and look upon the hundreds of black vultures sitting on the roof, strutting and hopping over the ground, or tearing at the hides that have been stretched out to dry. These birds are so typical a part of most towns and villages of tropical Colombia that one soon learns to accept them as a matter of course. They act as scavengers. Without them the settlements would reek with foulness.

Puerto Berrio marks the beginning of a narrow-gauge railway, and each morning at six a passenger-train leaves the station for Cisneros, covering the first stage of the journey to Medellin. Almost immediately after leaving the port, the road plunges into the finest type of Magdalena Valley forest. We therefore debarked at the first settlement, called Malena, only fifteen minutes after leaving the starting-point. My assistant on this expedition was Mr. Howarth S. Boyle, of Elmhurst, Long Island.

At Malena the tropical forest reaches the height of its development. There is a clearing large enough only to provide room for the village of some twenty houses, and the stately living wall of trees hems it in on all sides. The people are most obliging, and while there is no _posada_, or inn, of any kind, a Mestizo family volunteered to permit us the use of part of their dwelling.

A short tour of inspection confirmed our first impression of the region; it was a naturalist’s paradise. One had only to go to the outskirts of the town to find birds in greatest abundance. A number of tall dead trees had been left standing in the clearing, probably because it was easier to merely girdle them and let them die than to cut them down, and many blue and yellow macaws and Amazon parrots were nesting in cavities high up in the trunks. They had young at the time of our visit (March), and screamed and fluttered about the nests all day long. No one thought of disturbing them. Rough-winged swallows and martens nested in the same stubs, and apparently lived in perfect harmony with their noisy neighbors.

A shallow, narrow stream of clear water flows through the clearing, and a belt of woods and low sprouts mantles each bank with dusky green. This was the favorite resort of many small birds; oven-birds and ant-wrens ran about in the deep shade, while night-hawks, aroused from their slumbers, flapped noiselessly into the air and dropped again a few feet away. Scores of parrakeets chattered in the branches overhead, while flocks of large, spotted wrens (_Heleodytes_) added to the chorus with their incessant scolding.

If we remained close to the stream we were sure to surprise herons of several species, and black ibises wading in the shallow water. A species of ani (_Crotophaga_) fluttered in the overhanging bushes; they were awkward though beautiful creatures, the size of a blue jay, with brilliant, black iridescent plumage; the mouth was pure white, while the eyes were of a pea-green color.

If our tramp led to the heavy forest, the character of the birds changed. Giant orioles (_Ostinops_), grackles, and chachalacas always remained near the border of the taller growth, and toucans in flocks seemed to prefer the protection of the more inaccessible cover.

The forest is magnificent, and is composed largely of ceibas with thick, white trunks and wide-spreading tops. Many _tagua_, or ivory-nut palms, grow beneath the tall trees; their fruit is one of the important articles of export from the Magdalena Valley and, during August and September, many thousands of bags are shipped down the river to Barranquilla. Wild life, however, was comparatively scarce in the forest proper, with the single exception of mosquitoes, which were present in unlimited swarms, even in the daytime; and small troops of brown marmosets that showed themselves at rare intervals.

While crossing the clearing one day a flock of blue and yellow macaws passed overhead; we needed a pair for the collection, so I took a quick shot at the birds as they flew by; however, I succeeded only in wounding one of their number, which flew to the ground in a long slant and alighted so far away that it was useless to try to follow. On reaching home at noon, I was greatly surprised to find the bird perched on a ladder in the very house we were occupying. It had dropped in the yard, and having been seen by some children, they tried to catch it, whereupon it took refuge indoors and kept them at bay with its angry screams and attempts to bite.

The evenings at Malena were fully as profitable as the mornings. We always spent a pleasant hour or two at dusk, walking along the railroad. Pools of water had collected in the hollows where earth for the road-bed had been excavated, and many water-birds came there nightly to fish or catch frogs. Great blue herons, bitterns, and occasionally a cormorant or anhinga were surprised at their nocturnal feasts. When we returned after dark we started numerous goatsuckers, which had settled in the open lane to catch insects and to sing; this habit of resorting to open places, especially trails and roadways, has earned for them the name _guardacamino_ (road-guard) among the natives.

Malena was such an unusually interesting place that we expected to remain there several weeks; but, unfortunately, an epidemic of dysentery had invaded the Magdalena Valley, and the village was soon writhing in the throes of this fatal disease. Sickness and death in the family of our hosts made it necessary for us to continue on our way.

It requires exactly six hours to reach Cisneros, the end of the railroad, from Puerto Berrio. The altitude of the terminus is three thousand seven hundred feet above sea-level, and as one approaches it the heavy forest gradually disappears, to be replaced with a lower growth of brush and bushes; finally the hilltops are barren.

At Cisneros one may secure riding-animals, a carriage, or a motor-car, according to the mode of travel preferred, for the short ride across the ridge to Botero, from whence the journey may again be resumed by train. The road is splendid, and as the highest point, called La Quiebra, is only five thousand four hundred and twenty-five feet up, a canter on a spirited horse across the divide is most enjoyable.

Botero is very similar to Cisneros. There are two small hotels where the traveller may rest in comfort until the train leaves for Medellin, which is at 4.30 P.M.

Numerous villages are scattered along the railroad, which follows closely the course of the Medellin River. The country is green and apparently fertile. Thickets of wild cane grow near the stream, and the valley is dotted with clumps of tall, slender willows; so dense is the latter growth in some parts of the region that it forms groves and woods.

Two and a half hours after leaving Botero the train arrived at Medellin. Medellin is the third largest city of Colombia, and boasts of a population of seventy thousand. The city is not modern but very picturesque, and lies in a depression almost completely surrounded by mountains. We were fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of the American consul, Mr. H. B. Meyerheim, who rendered the expedition invaluable service during our entire stay in Antioquia.

The people of the state differ from the Colombians living in other parts of the country in that they possess more initiative and business ability; and for this reason they are frequently referred to as the Jews of Colombia. Some authorities go so far as to assert that they are really descendants of a colony of Jews that settled there many years ago. For this belief there seems to be very little foundation. The fact that the climate is bracing and that it requires a greater amount of work to gain a living in the semiarid country probably accounts for the increased degree of energy displayed by the inhabitants.

Our first expedition was to a point in the mountains southeast of the city, known as Santa Elena, and only a few hours’ ride on mules from Medellin. After crossing the ridge we found ourselves on a high, wild plateau, which had at one time been covered with forest; but the trees had been felled on the greater part of the area, and only small, scattered patches of woods were left untouched. There are numerous little huts in this upland country, and at one of these we decided to remain for as long a time as the country proved a profitable collecting ground.

On account of the great change in the flora, occasioned by deforestation, a corresponding change had taken place in the bird life. But little remained of the subtropical fauna we had expected to find; however, there were black thrushes, several species of tanagers, toucans, trogons, and motmots, besides many commoner species. Weasels were abundant and occasionally blundered into our traps; these animals are very easy to call up, and if one sits quietly and imitates the screams and squeaks of a wounded bird, it is often possible to attract a weasel to within a few feet, and at times it will run across one’s lap in search for the supposed victim. There were also squirrels of several species, and tiger-cats.

Many flowering shrubs dotted the roadside, imparting a blaze of color to the muddy highway; some of them were covered with brilliant scarlet blossoms, and others with snowy trumpetflowers of great size. In addition to this wealth of native flowers, the people cultivated plots of gladioli and roses, both of which attained great size and beauty in spite of the cold, wet climate.

We continued on across the highland from Santa Elena to a place called Barro Blanco, passing through the villages of Rio Negro and Carmen on the way; but the character of the country did not change appreciably! One of the products of the high, bleak region that immediately attracted our attention was a variety of maize; this thrived even on rocky ground. The ears were large and well-formed, and the huge, even grains were of a milky-white color and of splendid flavor. Large flocks of pigeons came to the corn-fields to feed and furnished splendid shooting; they fly down the mountainsides at terrific speed, and the rushing noises made by the wings can be heard at a great distance. On the edges of the fields grew small trees (_Ficus_) bearing quantities of white berries; birds of many species, including flycatchers, came to feed on them.

After completing our work in the Santa Elena region we returned to Medellin. Then we took the train as far as a station called Barbosa, and started overland for the Lower Cauca. We brought both pack and riding mules with us on the train, as it was difficult to obtain them at Barbosa, and when everything had been unloaded at the station, packs were adjusted and the mules started up the exceedingly steep ridge to the north. The altitude of Barbosa is four thousand six hundred and twenty-five feet above sea-level, but there was no break in the narrow, rocky trail until we had reached the summit, eight thousand one hundred feet up. A few miles beyond the top lies the village of Don Matias, almost concealed in a deep depression and surrounded by fruit-trees. The trail continues to wind across a rolling, arid country. Boulders of great size are strewn on the ground; they are of a most peculiar formation, consisting of concentric layers of stone, one or two inches thick.

Water is scarce, and we passed only one stream, and that of small size, called the Rio Porce.

Seven leagues is considered a good day’s travel in Colombia, on account of the mountainous nature of the country and poor trails. However, on our first day out from Barbosa we covered only five leagues, and spent the night at a hut called Sabanete, nine thousand feet up. Early the following morning we reached Santa Rosa, the centre of the Antioquian gold-fields. The town is of considerable size, but stands in the middle of a bleak, arid plain, and is about as cheerless a place as one could find. The surrounding country is exceedingly rich in gold, and numberless mines pierce the flat, stony surface, and penetrate into the hillsides. The only drawback to mining operations on a gigantic scale is the lack of water. During the rainy season the inhabitants of Santa Rosa gather water in barrels and every available sort of container, and then wash gold out in the street in front of their homes, or in the back yards. Despite its many natural disadvantages, Antioquia is one of the richest states in Colombia, and produces a great proportion of that country’s yearly output of gold, which in 1916 amounted to $5,400,000.

The country beyond Santa Rosa is practically uninhabited for a distance of ten or twelve miles; after that a growth of low woods gradually appears, and with it an abundance of bird life, such as California woodpeckers, green and yellow jays, black thrushes, warblers, and parrots. This was in great contrast to the arid country we had just left behind, where practically the only sign of life was an occasional hawk hovering in the air for many minutes at a time, in the hope of surprising an unsuspecting lizard or some small rodent among the rocks below.

It was in this forest that we again encountered a number of one of the most beautiful birds found in the entire region--the white-crowned tanager (_Serricossypha albacristata_). A flock of sixteen sat in the top of a bush and kept up a continuous shrill peeping.

The third night after leaving Medellin we reached Yarumal, a large town built on a steep, rocky slope. From a distance it seems as if the houses were standing one on top of another, and it is difficult to understand what prevents the whole town from sliding down the steep mountainside.

The “Hotel de la Madre” is one of the institutions of Yarumal. It is conducted by an old negress who looked us over suspiciously and found it hard to decide whether or not to admit us. While deliberating and fumbling about her shawl she scratched her finger severely on a pin; to this I immediately applied a few grains of permanganate taken from my snake-bite lancet. This won her favor, and we were given a room. Later she confided to us that two Englishmen had stopped there the week before. “We were frightened to death when we found out that they were Englishmen,” she said, “because England is at war, you know. But what do you think? They paid their bill next morning and left without hurting anybody. However, we made up our minds to be careful about admitting strangers in the future.”

One may ride from Yarumal to Valdivia in one day; but we broke the trip by stopping at a large wayside inn called La Frijolera. It was in the midst of a splendid forest growth, the elevation being five thousand feet. From a distance the forest looked most promising, but on account of the density of mosses, ferns, and creepers forming the undergrowth it was all but impenetrable.

We located a grove of guavas a short distance from the house, and this proved the most prolific hunting-ground. It was always possible to shoot squirrels there, as they came out at all hours of the day to feed on the ripening fruit. Many birds also flocked to the low trees for their daily sustenance, and even opossums lurked about the roots and brush to pick up the sweet morsels dropped by the furred and feathered flocks feasting in the branches.

At La Frijolera we engaged a native hunter who owned a famous hunting-dog named _Golondrina_ (meaning swallow). Words can hardly be found to convey an accurate picture of the hunter, but the dog’s name at once suggests its chief accomplishment. Day after day our man took his dog afield in search of agoutis, but he always returned empty-handed, explaining that while he had started a number of the animals we wanted, _Golondrina_ could never _see_ them, and so she failed to catch them. However, one day he saved his reputation as a hunter by making a difficult trip of ten miles to a steep, heavily wooded ravine, and shooting a number of red howler monkeys. A few days later the dog accidentally came across a peccary, which some native hunters were pursuing, brought it to bay on a rock, and kept it there until it could be shot.

This place presented rare opportunities for hunting by night. A road had been cut through the forest, dividing it in two clean-cut sections. However, the tips of wide-spreading branches from each side of the clear swath met in several places, forming an aerial connection above the road. These are known as “monkey bridges” because night monkeys and other animals utilize them in crossing from one section of the forest to another. As there was a full moon it was only necessary to sit quietly on a stump near one of the bridges and wait. Before long a rustling sound would come from the tree-top, so slight as to be scarcely audible, and occasionally a deep, low grunt; then silent, shadowy forms emerged from the blackness of concealing foliage and slowly made their way across the springy passage. Kinkajous also used these bridges, and as the natives prized the skins of these animals highly for making chaparejos, they conducted a regular business of hunting them on moonlight nights. After shooting in one spot for several nights in succession, it was necessary to leave it undisturbed for some time, as the animals became wary and sought other bridges.

The town of Valdivia is located on a little ridge four thousand two hundred feet up, about ten miles from Puerto Valdivia, which is on the Cauca River. All the intervening country is wooded.

We reached the port on a Sunday afternoon. The people from a distance of many miles around flocked to the spot on this day for the purpose of having a “good time,” so that there were upward of a hundred natives in and about the one corrugated iron and bamboo building comprising the _puerto_, dancing, drinking, fighting, and trading at the little shop. The owner of the house received us courteously (and where in all Colombia was courtesy wanting?) and we soon made ourselves comfortable in the large wareroom which formed one end of the structure. There was no thought of work that day, for everybody crowded about to have a good look at and welcome the _gringos_, but we made the best of the occasion and secured a good deal of information concerning the surrounding country.

The Cauca, a swift, muddy stream four or five hundred feet wide at this point, is hemmed in on both sides by the steep slopes of the Western and Central Andean Ranges, the forest extending down to the water. It is navigable from here on down to a small settlement called Cáceres, but rafts and canoes only are employed in making this journey, which requires half a day going down and two days coming up. The natives are a careless lot while on the water, and numbers of lives are lost annually. About the first thing we saw was the body of a man floating down the river, with a vulture perched on it. We asked Don José, owner of the place, why he did not send some of his peons in a canoe to recover it. He replied that if he did he would be required to care for the body until a government official from Yarumal came to view it, and then he and every one present would have to go back with the coroner to give their testimony as to the finding of the cadaver. This entailed so much trouble that it was customary not to pay any attention to such occurrences.

In few places have I seen such an abundance of interesting fauna as at Puerto Valdivia. The forest was teeming with birds; mammals were plentiful; shoals of fish and even caimans swarmed in the river; there were also insects enough to cheer the heart of an entomologist.

In such a region the naturalist has no idle moments. When we tired of working with birds and mammals, which were of chief interest to us, we had only to step to the river-bank, where vast swarms of brilliantly colored butterflies settled in thick masses in the mud or rocks to drink. A single sweep of the net often ensnared several score of the insects. A species of _Urania_ of a black and green color predominated, but a _Diana_, deep red above and spotted with silver dots on the under-side was not uncommon.

Fish could always be secured in abundance. If we attempted to catch them with hooks we usually landed catfish or small eels. It is unlawful to use dynamite in Colombia, but Don José had a goodly supply stored away and did not hesitate to use it when occasion required. The _peons_ detailed for that purpose selected a spot in the river where logs and brush had grounded to form a drift, or where the water eddied against a sharp bend; they tied a rock to the explosive, lit the fuse and threw it into the water. After a few moments, during which the water hissed and bubbled as the gases from the burning fuse rose and escaped, a dull thud followed and, almost immediately, the surface was littered with numbers of dead and stunned fish. They were invariably a species of “Pacu” (_Prochilodus nigricans_), weighing from one to four or five pounds, and proved to be excellent eating.

Not far from the port is an old cacao-plantation which has apparently been deserted for a number of years. The trees are tall and covered with moss, while the sheltering _cochimbas_ or _madre de cacaos_ form a high canopy of interlocking branches. To this cool retreat almost every species of bird common in the region came to feed or to pass the noonday hours. There were buccos and wood-hewers in abundance--the former dull, stupid birds, which sat quietly on the lower twigs in the hope that some insect would wing its way not too far from their ever-hungry mouths; the latter, agile and alert as they scampered up the moss-covered trunks, eagerly examining each crevice for a hidden grub or an ant. Gorgeous trogons with resplendent green backs and blood-red breasts flitted among the lower branches, and little parrots of bright green with gold-colored heads screamed and fluttered in the leafy branches high overhead. Where ferns and brush grew thickest, near the numerous ravines, flocks of yellow manakins (_Manacus_) sputtered and whirred in the semidarkness; they proved to be an undescribed form.

Mammals, too, were not lacking. Of chief interest were giant black weasels with white throat patches (_Tayra_). These are truly dreadful creatures--at least to the animals on which they feed. They are of powerful build, the neck muscles being particularly well-developed, and I can picture them as a dangerous antagonist even to a deer or a peccary.

The smallest of ant-eaters (_Cycloterus didactylus_) was also found in this region. This little animal, while not rare, perhaps, is seldom seen on account of its diminutive size and arboreal habits. It is of a beautiful golden color, and the fur is so fine and silky that could it be obtained in quantities sufficient for commercial purposes it would perhaps rival in value the highest priced fur in use to-day. The creature lives in the tree-tops and is diurnal in habits. It moves along the branches with great rapidity, either in an upright position or inverted like a sloth, the prehensile tail being used constantly. Ants form the food, and as these ascend even the highest trees, the little ant-eater has a never-failing and abundant supply; they are gathered up hurriedly as the little creature moves quickly along.

One day an army of carnivorous ants invaded our quarters while we were busily occupied preparing the specimens collected during the morning. The first intimation we had of the arrival of the ravaging host was when scores of cockroaches suddenly appeared and frantically ran up the walls of the room. Not long after, several centipedes eight inches long joined the fleeing cockroaches, and before long a number of scorpions followed in their wake, hotly pursued by the multitude of ants. There was nothing for us to do but follow the lead of the panic-stricken insects, so we hurriedly transferred our collections to a zone of safety outdoors, and waited a few hours until the ant army had completed its work and gone on its way. The natives welcome these visits as the ants act as scavengers and rid the house of vermin.

While at Puerto Valdivia we were presented with a young night monkey not larger than a good-sized mouse. It was a most interesting pet, and readily took to a diet of condensed milk, which it drank from a spoon. My companion, to whom the little animal belonged, kept it on the window-sill, from which point of vantage it took a lively interest in all that occurred within its range of vision. It so happened that there was a very small crack in the sill, and this proved to be a matter of the utmost concern to the tiny monkey. Hundreds of times each day it crept timidly to the crack and peered down into it anxiously, although there was only darkness below. When we held the pelt of an animal near it paid no attention whatever to it, with the single exception of the skin of one of its species, which it recognized immediately, and to which it clung tenaciously. When we left the hot climate of the Lower Cauca and started on the return journey to Medellin the little creature was unable to withstand the cold of the higher altitude and died.

The purpose of our zoological exploration of this section of Antioquia was to secure material that would throw light on the geography of the country farther north; for, beyond the general knowledge that the junction of the Cauca and the Magdalena mark the breaking down of the Cordillera Central, we knew comparatively little of a definite character about this part of Colombia. It was not until several months later that our work farther west--on the Paramillo and the Rio Sucio--provided the material which, viewed from a distributional standpoint, furnished the clews that aided very materially in solving our problem.