CHAPTER XXIV
THE CHACO, SUGAR-PLANTATIONS AND RICE MARSHES--A SEARCH FOR A RARE BIRD
The train for the Chaco left Perico at 9 P. M. It was composed largely of second-class coaches crowded with immigrants, mostly Italians bound for various parts of the great land that is being rapidly thrown open to colonization. There was, however, also a compartment-car in which we had taken the precaution of making a reservation some time in advance. The darkness prevented our seeing the landscape through which we passed, but on our return we noted that there was little change from that around Perico as far as San Pedro. There were, however, numerous fields of sugar-cane, some of very great size. Beyond San Pedro the country is all of the Chaco type; that is, vast stretches of pampas liberally sprinkled with islands of forest. The Vermejo, a river about the size of the Wabash, was crossed on a steel bridge three miles before reaching our destination, which was at six o’clock the following morning.
A group of newly erected shacks, low and so lightly built of packing-cases and corrugated sheet iron that many of them resembled mere skeletons of houses; narrow, crooked streets; shops loaded with fruits and conducted by Italians, and others festooned with bandanna handkerchiefs, gaudy wearing apparel and cheap jewelry, and owned by Turks or Syrians; gambling and liquor houses; a motley crowd of slovenly, not overdressed people, and a tropical sun blazing down mercilessly on the whole assemblage. That is Embarcacion, the “farthest east” to date in the north-eastern part of Argentina’s vast Chaco. I was told that as the railroad is extended farther and farther into the interior, many of the residents take down their abodes and ship them to the new station where they are re-assembled; and so a great portion of the town moves bodily at different intervals.
On all sides lies the seemingly limitless Chaco. There is practically no cultivation and but few herds of cattle had been introduced to date. In addition to the great possibilities for cattle-raising, the country also possesses enormous wealth in quebracho-wood; at present quantities of it are cut for use as fuel in the locomotives of several of the railroads. Within a short time, no doubt, these assets will be utilized in a manner that will be advantageous to both the exploiters and the country at large.
One of the interesting discoveries in the pampas was a wintering-place for bobolinks. The extent of this bird’s migration had been shrouded in mystery, and but a single specimen in winter plumage had ever been recorded. We found them in flocks of thousands, perched in the top of the tall grass or picking up seeds from the ground. Their cheery song was conspicuously absent. They were in spotted plumage. Small red-breasted meadow-larks (_Leistes_) mingled freely with the bobolinks.
Another place that never failed to attract us was a small lagoon flanked by forest on two sides, and by prairie on the others. This region was the resort of many birds. Flocks of Brazilian cardinals (_Paroaria_) numbering up to thirty individuals congregated in the bushes, their flaming red heads reminding one of clusters of brilliant flowers. We discovered a nest of the species, a shallow affair of grass stems, placed in the end of a branch twenty feet above the ground; in it were two eggs resembling those of the English sparrow. Small black-and-white flycatchers (_Fluvicola_) found the lagoon a most attractive spot. Their pear-shaped bag nests of interwoven grasses and feathers were scattered about in the overhanging bushes and also fastened to the stems of aquatic plants, sometimes but a foot above the water. There were also numbers of grebes, coots, and gallinules, and occasionally a pair of beautiful Brazilian teals visited the quiet, secluded body of water. Night-herons kept well to the tops of the taller trees; and everglade kites flew gracefully and swiftly overhead, usually singly, and rarely in pairs. We heard the weird call of chachalacas almost daily, but these birds had been persecuted by native hunters until they had acquired enough wisdom to avoid hunters and human beings in general. In one wet strip of woods we found limpkins in limited numbers. They did not seem to ever come out into the open country. There was not time to study the frogs, fish, and small snakes that we saw occasionally; nor to more than admire the myriads of flowers and curious plants growing on all sides. There was, however, another naturalist (José Steinbach) working in the locality at the time of our visit, and fortunately he devoted practically all his energies to the study of the very things we had to omit, so between both expeditions the fauna and flora were pretty well covered.
Many of the available trees were burdened with the huge stick nests of the leñateros (_Synallaxis_). Some of the structures measured six feet long and two feet through. They were built of thorny twigs, at the ends of branches. A heap of material is first placed at the very tip of a limb, and as the weight causes it to sag downward, more sticks are added until the huge mass hangs suspended in a vertical position. The thorns cause the whole affair to hold together so well that opossums and other predatory animals find it impossible to burrow their way through the walls to the interior cavity where the four or five white eggs, or the young birds, are cleverly concealed in a downy cup. There is usually a second chamber near the top of the nest; this is the male bird’s night quarters while his mate is incubating or brooding in the lower story.
Blue-headed tanagers (_Thraupis_) preferred to nest in the trees and bushes near to some human habitation, while blue grosbeaks selected more secluded sites in some little woods or thickets. The latter birds breed before the male changes his brown nestling plumage to the deep indigo-blue coat of the adult.
The most beautiful of all South American birds’ eggs are laid by the tinamou. They are placed in a depression in the ground, usually under a tuft of grass or near a log or stone. Their color varies in the different species, running through turquoise and deep blue, lavender, brown, green, and gold. The shape is rounded or broadly ovate and the shell is very smooth so that it glows like a varnished or highly polished sphere. In spite of the glossy texture of the surface, minute scrutiny will reveal the fact that it is pitted like that of the eggs of the rhea to which the tinamou are closely related.
We saw a fox occasionally, slinking across a trail and always well out of gun-range. Each morning there were tracks of cats and large cavies in the dusty paths, but mammals were scarce and few came to our traps.
There were no mosquitoes during the day, and only enough at night to make the use of a net desirable. Sand-flies, however, often appeared in considerable numbers and were troublesome. The climate was intolerably hot during the greater part of our stay. Each day the thermometer rose a few degrees higher until we found even the lightest and scantiest amount of clothing uncomfortable; all through the long afternoons we sat shirtless with streams of perspiration pouring down our backs, preparing the specimens that spoiled within a few hours unless properly preserved. About every fourth or fifth day the weather broke and a deluge of rain falling throughout the afternoon and night brought with it a lowered temperature and welcome respite from the oppressive heat.
Our greatest problem was dealing with the hosts of small red ants that persisted in getting at our specimens. We kept the latter on a table the legs of which stood in tin cans half full of kerosene; but a trailing thread, a piece of paper blown by the wind, or any one of a dozen other trivial things that happened daily furnished bridges over which the insatiable hordes promptly swarmed to destroy our hard-gotten trophies.
We next headed toward Tucuman and upon our arrival there were pleased to find a city of sixty thousand inhabitants, delightful from practically every point of view. The people were particularly interesting. We saw few of them on the streets during the daytime, but in the late afternoon after the shops and offices had closed and bolted their doors, the men appeared in crowds, all well and neatly dressed. They congregated in the saloons and cafés fringing the plaza, and drank beer and small cups of strong, black coffee until about seven o’clock. In many instances the tables were arranged on both sides of the pavement so that one walked through a lane between rows of sleek-combed youths twirling gaudily banded straw hats or canes, and noisily discussing--what-not, and grave-faced men with gray hair and beards everlastingly talking politics. After going home to supper they reappeared with the womenfolk, the wealthier ones circling about the plaza in carriages or motor-cars, the less opulent afoot. The band played every other night.
The great Province of Tucuman, of which the city bearing the same name is the capital, is one of the most fertile in all Argentina. Its principal products are sugar, rice, and cattle. Land values are high--too high in some cases, but it cannot be denied that there is good reason for the rapidly rising scale of prices.
In Tucuman we found the chief of police a hard proposition to handle when it came to securing the hunting-license. To begin with, we had great difficulty in entering his sanctuary. The door was guarded by a mammoth negro who rushed into the inner chamber each time the _intendente_ rang for him. First he always jerked a huge club out from under his coat--ready perhaps to take the first whack at the official if some one started anything, instead of defending him. Finally we succeeded in entering the holy of holies, and found a small, rather elderly man sitting behind a large, flat desk, sipping tea while several _secretarios_ hopped wildly about him and yelled into an ear-trumpet held in position by one of his hands. He failed utterly to understand our request, and curtly refused to have anything to do with any _millinery establishment_. We argued in vain, then retired to think of some new move, for the permit was necessary if we wished to keep out of jail, and I must admit that such was our ardent desire.
There being no United States Consul in Tucuman, I appealed to the British Consul for assistance. He very kindly spent many hours calling on various officials, from the governor down, explaining our mission and asking that the small matter be arranged for us. Our quest seemed hopeless until one day a copy of one of the large daily newspapers arrived from Buenos Aires, and in this I found an account of how representatives of Latin-American countries who were attending the scientific congress in Washington had been received and entertained at the American Museum of Natural History during their visit to New York. Armed with this clipping I again invaded the _palacio_. Ordinarily I should not have done such a thing, as there are many reasons why it is not commendable, but the situation was desperate and called for aggressive tactics. Suffice it to say that this visit was the last. A mild comparison of how their people were treated in our country, and the difficulties we had in theirs was sufficient, and when I left the building the permit was in my pocket.
The Sierra de Tucuman, a range of comparatively low mountains, rises directly west of the city. This we found to be covered with a growth of tall, dense forest, so we lost no time in moving there. We left the city by rail and proceeded southwestward to a small station called San Pablo, a short distance away. This is in the heart of the sugar region and vast fields of cane stretch on either side of the railway. Here and there the tall brick chimneys of a refinery rise above the waving green fields, and wide, deep canals divide the cultivated areas into sections and supply water for irrigation.
A good cart-road leads from San Pablo up the side of the mountain to the very summit, four thousand six hundred feet high, where the little town of Villa Nougués is situated. This settlement is a favorite resort of the wealthier class of people who come up from Tucuman to spend the summer months in pleasant châteaux, thereby avoiding the heat of the lower country.
The view from the top of the range is superb; the country to the east is perfectly level, and is laid out in symmetrical fields of cane as far as the eye can see. A small, muddy river, threading its way through the ocean of green divides it into two sections and vanishes into the horizon in a haze of purple mist. To the west stands the stern Andean chain, barren and precipitous, its summit hidden in banks of cold, gray clouds.
We made a first camp in the forest below Villa Nougués, at an altitude of four thousand feet. From the very first day we had heard the shrill little call of a bird which we attributed to the much-coveted tapacola (_Scytalopus_) we were looking for; but the elusive creature always remained in concealment among the ferns and mosses and not once did we get a glimpse of it. Then we secured ox-carts and moved to the other side of the mountain, where, we were told, hunting was not so difficult.
Birds were not abundant, the fall migrations having left the forest almost deserted. The few species which remained, however, such as wood-hewers, thrushes, tanagers, and jays, were plentiful, and several kinds of humming-birds added life and color to the sombre green of the vegetation. After many days we succeeded in tracing the mysterious chirp to its source, and found, not the bird we were seeking, but a dainty little wood-wren of the shyest possible nature. The minute, secretive creature seemed to spend its entire time among the buttresses, roots, and moss-draped undergrowth, where no ray of sunlight ever penetrated to dispel the chill and semidarkness, or give a touch of warmth to the soggy mould. Its glimpses of daylight must be brief indeed, and at infrequent intervals. We had come to the mountains in a state of enthusiasm and expectancy, for here it seemed we should succeed in ending our long quest for the tapacola. As the days passed, thrilling excitement gave way to exasperation, and finally disappointment alone remained to fill the void created by the flight of the other emotions.
We returned to Tucuman for a brief time, and then struck for the forest farther south. This time we left the railroad at a station called Acherál two and one-half hours from Tucuman, and camped in the forest at the foot of the ridge. Again we were doomed to disappointment. Birds were more abundant than at Villa Nougués, but the tapacola was not forthcoming. There were, however, numerous other interesting species. Pigmy woodpeckers (_Picumnus_) selected the patches of high brush and second-growth woods just without the edge of the forest proper. They are little larger than a good-sized humming-bird, dark or black above, white underneath, and have a red cap. Their industrious hammering always advertised the presence of a pair as they hopped quickly along the trunks and branches, tapping for worms or excavating a nesting-site.
The woods were undermined with tunnels made by the queer _tuco-tuco_, or _oculto_ (_Ctenomys_), a species of which we had come in contact with in Brazil. We set a steel trap in one of the subterranean runways, carefully covering with a log the opening we had made; soon a series of low grunts emanated from the spot, and we found a fine, large specimen of the strange rodent safely held by the steel jaws.
Bottle flies were so numerous as to prove a most disagreeable pest. Blankets, clothing, food, and specimens alike were covered with “blow” if left exposed for but a few minutes. We were lucky in possessing enough netting with which to rig up covers for everything, but even then numbers gained entrance, and we had to clean the infested articles frequently by passing them over a fire or by scraping and brushing.
After a few days we concluded that a visit to the top of the range, which at this point attains an altitude of over ten thousand feet, was necessary. We secured a pack-train of mules from Acherál, and one morning at one o’clock started up the steep slope. A full moon showered a flood of light upon the earth, but the overhanging branches formed a thick canopy over the trail, impermeable to the silvery radiance save when an occasional breeze stirred the leafy arch, thus permitting fitful shafts of light to pierce the darkness of the tunnel, and to fall in quavering, dancing blotches on the ground. We could almost feel the impenetrable blackness which closed in from all sides like water in a deep, dark pool. The light touch of a streamer dangling from the moss-festooned branches overhead, or the velvety swish of fern leaves protruding beyond the protecting walls of tree-trunks, made it seem as if the forest were peopled with hovering, invisible forms. No sound disturbed the brooding silence of the night except the dull hoof-beats of the mules as, guided by some mysterious instinct, they cautiously picked their way through the muddy and rock-strewn lane.
Hour after hour we followed blindly in the wake of the bell-mule, winding back and forth along the mountainside, but mounting ever upward. The latter part of the way seemed to lie near the course of a small mountain torrent, for we were almost constantly within hearing distance of rushing water. Finally, we emerged from the forest, and, just as day was breaking, reached a brush-covered strip of country, the elevation of which is five thousand feet. This continued to the top of the ridge, two thousand feet above. Then there was a depression of considerable extent, filled with rank, low vegetation and infested with swarms of bloodthirsty flies which render it uninhabitable.
After ascending another ridge, the trail led gently downward into a level valley a dozen miles long and from one to two miles wide. Herds of cattle were grazing on the abundant grass; a few small areas had been enclosed within stone walls and planted in maize; and at the far end, half concealed by willows and fruit-trees, lay a village of whitewashed houses. At half past four in the afternoon we reached the settlement, called Tafí del Valle, and soon after were comfortably ensconced in a hut hospitably provided by one of the inhabitants. After the fifteen and a half hours’ uninterrupted ride over a difficult trail we were ready for a journey into a still more remote region, and the sun was shining brightly the following morning when we again returned to the stern realities of this world.
Tafí del Valle is a most delightful place. Even though the altitude is seven thousand feet, the surrounding peaks shut in the valley and protect it from the icy winds. There is no natural forest in this region, but groves of willows have been planted near the houses; to these, large numbers of birds came to spend the night. Hawks were especially abundant and of many kinds--we collected no fewer than seventeen species during our ten days’ stay; then there were also burrowing owls, larks, flycatchers, thrushes, and many other birds. Some species which ordinarily live in brush-covered country had become adapted to their barren surroundings and were nesting in holes excavated in banks of earth. When the birds had reared their broods, rats, mice, and pigmy opossums occupied the old nesting-sites.
A clear, cold stream, which flows through one side of the valley, spreads out at the lower end over a large area, forming lagoons and marshes. Geese, ducks, coots, night-herons, and sandpipers made these places a favorite resort. Pectoral sandpipers were not uncommon, and were so fat that they were unable to fly and could be taken with the hands. There were also flocks of stilts; they are beautiful creatures, either when flying in compact formation, with measured wing-beats and outstretched necks and legs, or when standing motionless in the shallow water, their snowy underparts reflected in quivering outlines. Lapwings screamed and cackled in resentment of our visit and frequently frightened away flocks of water-fowl which we were stalking.
Apparently our _Scytalopus_ was not a bird of the open highlands. We even began to wonder if it existed at all, because, so far, the most thorough search had failed to reveal any trace of it. There remained, however, the high _paramo_ above, and to this we next turned our attention.
Our sudden arrival at Tafí had caused much comment among the inhabitants. They found it impossible to believe that we had come to that remote region in search of a small, dull-colored bird, and after a few days it became an open secret that we were regarded as spies--though just what nature of information we sought, could not be determined. They even went so far as to refer to the matter occasionally in a good-natured manner; and when we were away on hunting excursions, it was their custom to put our cook, a Bolivian, through a sort of “third degree” in an effort to compel him to confess the real object of our visit. Therefore, when we planned to move to the high peaks bordering the little valley, the natives considered their evidence complete; we were going, they said, to prepare a diagram of the country from our new point of vantage. The only person who really understood the purpose of our mission was a man from Tucuman who had been sent up to vaccinate the Indians. He started out each morning accompanied by two or three soldiers, rounded up all the Indians of a given locality, and vaccinated them. The natives did not at the time realize the significance of this act; but when, a few weeks later, the inoculations had had time to become effective, they grew frantic, and grim-faced little parties began to scour the country in search of the person who had “poisoned” them. Fortunately, none of the scouting-parties came our way, for to them all strangers look very much alike, and there was the possibility that one of us might have been mistaken for the doctor.
The _paramo_ above Tafí is a bleak region, almost perpetually enveloped in mist. Work in this type of country possesses its disadvantages, for in addition to the intense cold and the lack of fuel, there is always the possibility that one may be trapped far from camp by banks of clouds which roll in unexpectedly! The cold, penetrating mist is so dense that it is impossible to distinguish objects but a few yards away, and the most familiar landmarks assume strange and fantastic outlines. In the event that one is overtaken by this phenomenon, there is nothing to do but wait until the mist lifts, which may be in a few hours, or perhaps, not until the next day. Strange to say, the inhospitable _paramo_ supports a varied fauna. Herds of wary guanacos feed on the tall, wiry grass growing in the more sheltered places; when alarmed, they flee to the inaccessible rocky slopes. The _paja_, or grass, harbors also a species of large tinamou, but the bird is loath to leave its safe cover, for no sooner does it take wing than hawks, which are always hovering about, swoop down and carry it away.
Numbers of deep ravines have been worn in the mountainsides by water coming from the melting snows on the higher peaks. These are filled with a rank growth of shrubbery. The sides are so abrupt that we could find no spot where a descent was possible without the aid of a thousand feet or more of rope. After a number of days, however, a narrow fissure was discovered leading to one of the ravines from which came faint bird-calls that we at once recognized with a fair degree of certainty. On account of the high altitude and tangled plant-life it was slow, tiring work to follow along the bottom of the jagged gash; there was also the unpleasant possibility of breaking through the matted brush and falling into deep crevices among the rocks.
As we struggled along slowly, high-pitched, whistling calls rang clear and loud from numerous places near by, but still it seemed as if our efforts might be of no avail; for among that chaos of vegetation it was impossible to move without causing great disturbance and frightening the birds away. Then there recurred to us the old saying about Mahomet and the mountain and we resorted to quiet concealment.
Presently there was a crisp little chirp and a rustle among the mosses a few yards away; one, two, five minutes passed; then a minute, shadowy form darted out of the darkness, perched on a moss-covered boulder, and turned a pair of bright, inquisitive eyes upon the strange monsters which had invaded its snug retreat. The white throat gleamed conspicuously among the deep-green surroundings as the bird paused a moment to complete its inspection; then up went the short, barred tail, straight into the air, and a succession of low, scolding notes emanated from the feathered mite as it hopped about in angry excitement.
We found that the bird existed in numbers; once we had discovered a way of entering its stronghold, it was possible to make the desired studies. Thus our difficult search, covering so many hundreds of miles, came to a pleasant and successful close.
Our work in the Argentine, however, was by no means completed. After a short return trip to our base, we went some distance farther south to Aguilares, a village similar to San Pablo and Acherál. Persimmons and tangerines were in season, and at each station women came to the car-windows offering great bunches of the fruit for sale. The former were most attractive while on the trees; they were as large as a hen’s egg, of a deep-red color, and were evenly distributed among the dense, green foliage. The flavor of both was excellent.
Within an hour after reaching Aguilares we had been invited to visit the estate of a wealthy rice-grower named Da Costa, and soon after we were on our way, his son taking us there in a carriage while the luggage went in a cart. At the ranch we found a large, rather dilapidated house occupied by the family of the caretaker. On one side were great rice-fields; on the other, totora marshes, pastures, and woods. The place was most attractive, and the people altogether delightful, so that we spent over two weeks busily engrossed in the abundant work at hand.
The marshes covered many acres and were filled with cattails except for a few narrow lanes of open water. Coypu rats had their runways crisscrossing in every direction--sometimes neat, rounded tunnels with the bottom just under water, and again, wide trails where the vegetation had been trampled down. They look like very large musk-rats and their skins, known commercially as _nutria_, are exported by hundreds of thousands each year to be manufactured into felt hats of the better quality. We caught several that gnawed down all the stalks within reach and piled them into neat islands on which to sit. They feigned death until touched with a stick when they attempted to bite and fought viciously. Jumping mice and large, light-brown, woolly rats used the same paths as their bigger relatives. One afternoon a fine individual of the great red wolf we had secured at Corumbá appeared at the edge of the rushes for a moment only to vanish into the dark marsh at our first movement; a few minutes later he was seen loping into the brush several hundreds of yards away.
Ducks came to the region daily, mostly teals and rosy-bills, but in small numbers only. They were hard to get, as wading in the waist-deep, ice-cold water and mud was slow work and they invariably took warning and left while still out of range. At night flocks of painted snipe (_Rostratula_) ventured to the open borders to feed. While we were quietly waiting, a dusky form appeared and began to probe the mud frantically, to be joined by others in a short time. They skipped about on the flats adjoining the reed-beds in a most erratic manner, reminding one of the actions of water-beetles, and upon the first sign of danger promptly disappeared in the labyrinth of stems and grasses. They seldom took wing, and then it was but to flutter up above the tallest reeds and immediately drop out of sight in the thick cover.
It is to this region of dense totara marshes that the cowbirds revert to spend the winter season, arriving from all directions in comparatively small flocks, but increasing in numbers until there are tens of thousands.
As the rice was ripening about this time, the birds did an enormous amount of damage. All day long, men on horseback rode back and forth through the fields, armed with slings and a bag full of pebbles; they hurled stones and shouted themselves hoarse in a vain endeavor to frighten away the marauding hosts.
The birds, in bands of a few individuals to several hundred, arrived each morning at daybreak, flying low and swiftly, and making a “swishing” sound as they cut through the air. When immediately over the rice-fields, the band would suddenly swerve as if to circle, but drop almost instantly and eat greedily without a moment’s delay. Upon seeing a flock approach, the men threw stones and shouted, often succeeding in making it pass straight over or leave the vicinity after circling once or twice. Should the birds alight, the hail of stones soon put them to rout, but not until a few grains of the much-coveted rice had been secured by each individual.
As the day advanced the birds spread out over the surrounding country where they were not persecuted, and spent most of the time on the ground near the cattle and horses, often perched on the backs of the grazing animals. At nightfall they returned to the cattails, and in passing over the rice-fields again took toll from the planters. The flocks in the marshes assumed tremendous proportions, and the babble of voices resembled a rushing wind; the roar of wings, if the masses were suddenly startled by the report of a gun, was not unlike the roll of distant thunder. Before finally settling down for the night they spent some time hopping about on the mud-flats and eating minute animal and vegetable matter.
Carlos S. Reed, F. Z. S., Director of the Natural History Museum, Mendoza, Argentine Republic, gives the results of his investigations as to the food of _Molothrus bonariensis_ in a paper in the _Revista Chilena de Historia Natural_, año XVII, No. 3, 1913. The following is a translation, as literal as possible, of a part of the original paper, which is written in Spanish:
“In the summer of 1910 there occurred in various departments of the Province of Mendoza, a great invasion of _Isocas_ (larvæ of a lepidopteran) and in various inspections which I realized in the infected countryside I was able to confirm that a number of birds occupied themselves in eating the larvæ and adults of these _Isocas_ (_Colias lesbia_ Fabr.) and among them _Molothrus bonariensis_ predominated.
“It is also a voracious destroyer of the white worm (larva of _Ligyrus bidentulus_ Fairm.) when these are exposed in ploughing furrows in the vineyards. The ‘_bicho de cesto_’ (_Æceticus platensis_ Berg) is also very much persecuted by the bird with which we are occupied.
“The corn-fields suffer damages by reason of _Molothrus bonariensis_, but only during the period between the beginning of the ripening of the ear and its collection; certainly, one ought not to take this damage into consideration when, during eleven months, _Molothrus bonariensis_ has fed in the cultivated country on other products, not on maize, and among these has predominated the larva of _Chloridea armigera_, the most formidable enemy of the maize-fields.
“I have examined the stomach contents of more than sixty specimens of _Molothrus bonariensis_, freshly shot, in the various seasons and have encountered about 90 per cent of substance of animal origin and the rest grains, principally maize, but the maize they have generally obtained from the offal of horses and mules, as in Mendoza a good deal of maize is given to working animals, and, as the grain is fed entire, a goodly percentage of it is eliminated without having been digested. It is for this reason that one frequently finds this bird scratching among and turning over the offal. This custom is why it has been given the name of _virabosta_ in Brazil. Therefore, _Molothrus bonariensis_ may be looked upon as a bird helpful rather than destructive to agriculture.”
Rice is planted in “boxes” about twenty-five feet square. Water is supplied through a system of canals some of which are many miles long, and its level is regulated by sets of locks and gates. A few of the fields had already been cut over and the sheaves piled in stacks to dry. Small rodents--rats and mice--were so numerous that they worked great havoc. We ran over our traps thrice daily and always found all of them filled. At dusk short-eared owls came to the vicinity and perched on the mounds from which they could swoop down and capture the mice that teemed in the stubble below. I fired several heavy charges of shot at these birds one evening, and the weather being clear and quiet, the sound carried to the village about a mile and a half away. Early next morning a police sergeant rode up and informed us that we were under arrest. We thanked him for the information, and he left while we went on with our work. At noon another orderly came to repeat the message of the first, and to add that we were expected to report at the police-station immediately. The next day we went to see what all the trouble was about. The “jefe” was waiting for us at the entrance to the jail, surrounded by a curious audience of townspeople. He looked sad, grave, and offended as he began: _“Señores_, I heard five shots night before last.” “Yes, _señor_,” I interrupted, “I fired at least eight or ten.” “_Pues_, that is absolutely prohibited here; one may not shoot under any circumstances whatsoever, so I am compelled to place you in confinement.” At this part of the proceedings I merely flashed our permit and asked him why the governor of the province should give out such a document, and charge two _pesos_ for it, if one could not hunt under any circumstances. He was taken completely by surprise and did not know what to say, so we wished him good morning and went home, much to the amusement of the crowd which had a good laugh at the _jefe’s_ expense.
The Argentinians are inveterate drinkers of _maté_. It is taken from a _bombilla_, as in Paraguay, and all classes of people indulge in the habit. I heard that a law had recently been passed requiring each person to use an individual tube as the old system of everybody’s using the same one indiscriminately had caused the spread of various diseases, among them cancer of the mouth, at an alarming rate. Our good friends at Los Sarmientos were very fond of their daily brew, and usually took nothing else for breakfast. They at first very generously passed the steaming bowl to us, but soon grew accustomed to our refusals and refrained from extending further invitations to drink.
The weather grew rapidly colder and rain or snow fell almost daily. A mantle of white completely covered the Andes stretching in an unbroken range to the west of us; the picture presented in the early mornings was one of great beauty, as the sun lit up the snowy summits with a rosy light, while a thin bank of purplish vapor enveloped the foot of the range in a soft mantle of regal splendor.
Hunting in the marshes grew most difficult on account of the cold, and the thin ice through which we had to crunch to reach the better collecting-grounds. We therefore decided to seek a friendlier clime, and returned to Tucuman to prepare for a visit to the desert regions of Santiago del Estero.