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Chapter IX
(PLATE 41. CONDOR (Sarcorhamphus gryphus).)
Santa Cruz.
Expedition up the River.
Indians.
Immense Streams of basaltic lava.
Fragments not transported by the River.
Excavation of the valley.
Condor, habits of.
Cordillera.
Erratic boulders of great size.
Indian relics.
Return to the ship.
Falkland Islands.
Wild horses, cattle, rabbits.
Wolf-like fox.
Fire made of bones.
Manner of hunting wild cattle.
Geology.
Streams of stones.
Scenes of violence.
Penguin.
Geese.
Eggs of Doris.
Compound animals.
SANTA CRUZ, PATAGONIA, AND THE FALKLAND ISLANDS.
APRIL 13, 1834.
The "Beagle" anchored within the mouth of the Santa Cruz. This
river is situated about sixty miles south of Port St. Julian.
During the last voyage Captain Stokes proceeded thirty miles up it,
but then, from the want of provisions, was obliged to return.
Excepting what was discovered at that time, scarcely anything was
known about this large river. Captain Fitz Roy now determined to
follow its course as far as time would allow. On the 18th three
whale-boats started, carrying three weeks' provisions; and the
party consisted of twenty-five souls--a force which would have been
sufficient to have defied a host of Indians. With a strong
flood-tide and a fine day we made a good run, soon drank some of
the fresh water, and were at night nearly above the tidal
influence.
The river here assumed a size and appearance which, even at the
highest point we ultimately reached, was scarcely diminished. It
was generally from three to four hundred yards broad, and in the
middle about seventeen feet deep. The rapidity of the current,
which in its whole course runs at the rate of from four to six
knots an hour, is perhaps its most remarkable feature. The water is
of a fine blue colour, but with a slight milky tinge, and not so
transparent as at first sight would have been expected. It flows
over a bed of pebbles, like those which compose the beach and the
surrounding plains. It runs in a winding course through a valley,
which extends in a direct line westward. This valley varies from
five to ten miles in breadth; it is bounded by step-formed
terraces, which rise in most parts, one above the other, to the
height of five hundred feet, and have on the opposite sides a
remarkable correspondence.
APRIL 19, 1834.
Against so strong a current it was, of course, quite impossible to
row or sail: consequently the three boats were fastened together
head and stern, two hands left in each, and the rest came on shore
to track. As the general arrangements made by Captain Fitz Roy were
very good for facilitating the work of all, and as all had a share
in it, I will describe the system. The party, including every one,
was divided into two spells, each of which hauled at the tracking
line alternately for an hour and a half. The officers of each boat
lived with, ate the same food, and slept in the same tent with
their crew, so that each boat was quite independent of the others.
After sunset the first level spot where any bushes were growing was
chosen for our night's lodging. Each of the crew took it in turns
to be cook. Immediately the boat was hauled up, the cook made his
fire; two others pitched the tent; the coxswain handed the things
out of the boat; the rest carried them up to the tents and
collected firewood. By this order, in half an hour everything was
ready for the night. A watch of two men and an officer was always
kept, whose duty it was to look after the boats, keep up the fire,
and guard against Indians. Each in the party had his one hour every
night.
During this day we tracked but a short distance, for there were
many islets, covered by thorny bushes, and the channels between
them were shallow.
APRIL 20, 1834.
We passed the islands and set to work. Our regular day's march,
although it was hard enough, carried us on an average only ten
miles in a straight line, and perhaps fifteen or twenty altogether.
Beyond the place where we slept last night, the country is
completely terra incognita, for it was there that Captain Stokes
turned back. We saw in the distance a great smoke, and found the
skeleton of a horse, so we knew that Indians were in the
neighbourhood. On the next morning (21st) tracks of a party of
horse, and marks left by the trailing of the chuzos, or long
spears, were observed on the ground. It was generally thought that
the Indians had reconnoitred us during the night. Shortly
afterwards we came to a spot where, from the fresh footsteps of
men, children, and horses, it was evident that the party had
crossed the river.
APRIL 22, 1834.
The country remained the same, and was extremely uninteresting. The
complete similarity of the productions throughout Patagonia is one
of its most striking characters. The level plains of arid shingle
support the same stunted and dwarf plants; and in the valleys the
same thorn-bearing bushes grow. Everywhere we see the same birds
and insects. Even the very banks of the river and of the clear
streamlets which entered it, were scarcely enlivened by a brighter
tint of green. The curse of sterility is on the land, and the water
flowing over a bed of pebbles partakes of the same curse. Hence the
number of waterfowl is very scanty; for there is nothing to support
life in the stream of this barren river.
Patagonia, poor as she is in some respects, can however boast of a
greater stock of small rodents than perhaps any other country in
the world. (9/1. The desserts of Syria are characterised, according
to Volney tome 1 page 351, by woody bushes, numerous rats, gazelles
and hares. In the landscape of Patagonia the guanaco replaces the
gazelle, and the agouti the hare.) Several species of mice are
externally characterised by large thin ears and a very fine fur.
These little animals swarm amongst the thickets in the valleys,
where they cannot for months together taste a drop of water
excepting the dew. They all seem to be cannibals; for no sooner was
a mouse caught in one of my traps than it was devoured by others. A
small and delicately-shaped fox, which is likewise very abundant,
probably derives its entire support from these small animals. The
guanaco is also in his proper district, herds of fifty or a hundred
were common; and, as I have stated, we saw one which must have
contained at least five hundred. The puma, with the condor and
other carrion-hawks in its train, follows and preys upon these
animals. The footsteps of the puma were to be seen almost
everywhere on the banks of the river; and the remains of several
guanacos, with their necks dislocated and bones broken, showed how
they had met their death.
APRIL 24, 1834.
Like the navigators of old when approaching an unknown land, we
examined and watched for the most trivial sign of a change. The
drifted trunk of a tree, or a boulder of primitive rock, was hailed
with joy, as if we had seen a forest growing on the flanks of the
Cordillera. The top, however, of a heavy bank of clouds, which
remained almost constantly in one position, was the most promising
sign, and eventually turned out a true harbinger. At first the
clouds were mistaken for the mountains themselves, instead of the
masses of vapour condensed by their icy summits.
APRIL 26, 1834.
We this day met with a marked change in the geological structure of
the plains. From the first starting I had carefully examined the
gravel in the river, and for the two last days had noticed the
presence of a few small pebbles of a very cellular basalt. These
gradually increased in number and in size, but none were as large
as a man's head. This morning, however, pebbles of the same rock,
but more compact, suddenly became abundant, and in the course of
half an hour we saw, at the distance of five or six miles, the
angular edge of a great basaltic platform. When we arrived at its
base we found the stream bubbling among the fallen blocks. For the
next twenty-eight miles the river-course was encumbered with these
basaltic masses. Above that limit immense fragments of primitive
rocks, derived from the surrounding boulder-formation, were equally
numerous. None of the fragments of any considerable size had been
washed more than three or four miles down the river below their
parent-source: considering the singular rapidity of the great body
of water in the Santa Cruz, and that no still reaches occur in any
part, this example is a most striking one, of the inefficiency of
rivers in transporting even moderately-sized fragments.
The basalt is only lava which has flowed beneath the sea; but the
eruptions must have been on the grandest scale. At the point where
we first met this formation it was 120 feet in thickness; following
up the river-course, the surface imperceptibly rose and the mass
became thicker, so that at forty miles above the first station it
was 320 feet thick. What the thickness may be close to the
Cordillera, I have no means of knowing, but the platform there
attains a height of about three thousand feet above the level of
the sea: we must therefore look to the mountains of that great
chain for its source; and worthy of such a source are streams that
have flowed over the gently inclined bed of the sea to a distance
of one hundred miles. At the first glance of the basaltic cliffs on
the opposite sides of the valley it was evident that the strata
once were united. What power, then, has removed along a whole line
of country a solid mass of very hard rock, which had an average
thickness of nearly three hundred feet, and a breadth varying from
rather less than two miles to four miles? The river, though it has
so little power in transporting even inconsiderable fragments, yet
in the lapse of ages might produce by its gradual erosion an
effect, of which it is difficult to judge the amount. But in this
case, independently of the insignificance of such an agency, good
reasons can be assigned for believing that this valley was formerly
occupied by an arm of the sea. It is needless in this work to
detail the arguments leading to this conclusion, derived from the
form and the nature of the step-formed terraces on both sides of
the valley, from the manner in which the bottom of the valley near
the Andes expands into a great estuary-like plain with
sand-hillocks on it, and from the occurrence of a few sea-shells
lying in the bed of the river. If I had space I could prove that
South America was formerly here cut off by a strait, joining the
Atlantic and Pacific oceans, like that of Magellan. But it may yet
be asked, how has the solid basalt been removed? Geologists
formerly would have brought into play the violent action of some
overwhelming debacle; but in this case such a supposition would
have been quite inadmissible; because, the same step-like plains
with existing sea-shells lying on their surface, which front the
long line of the Patagonian coast, sweep up on each side of the
valley of Santa Cruz. No possible action of any flood could thus
have modelled the land, either within the valley or along the open
coast; and by the formation of such step-like plains or terraces
the valley itself has been hollowed out. Although we know that
there are tides which run within the Narrows of the Strait of
Magellan at the rate of eight knots an hour, yet we must confess
that it makes the head almost giddy to reflect on the number of
years, century after century, which the tides, unaided by a heavy
surf, must have required to have corroded so vast an area and
thickness of solid basaltic lava. Nevertheless, we must believe
that the strata undermined by the waters of this ancient strait
were broken up into huge fragments, and these lying scattered on
the beach were reduced first to smaller blocks, then to pebbles,
and lastly to the most impalpable mud, which the tides drifted far
into the Eastern or Western Ocean.
With the change in the geological structure of the plains the
character of the landscape likewise altered. While rambling up some
of the narrow and rocky defiles, I could almost have fancied myself
transported back again to the barren valleys of the island of St.
Jago. Among the basaltic cliffs I found some plants which I had
seen nowhere else, but others I recognised as being wanderers from
Tierra del Fuego. These porous rocks serve as a reservoir for the
scanty rain-water; and consequently on the line where the igneous
and sedimentary formations unite, some small springs (most rare
occurrences in Patagonia) burst forth; and they could be
distinguished at a distance by the circumscribed patches of bright
green herbage.
(PLATE 42. BASALTIC GLEN, SANTA CRUZ (RIO NEGRO).
APRIL 27, 1834.
The bed of the river became rather narrower, and hence the stream
more rapid. It here ran at the rate of six knots an hour. From this
cause, and from the many great angular fragments, tracking the
boats became both dangerous and laborious.
This day I shot a condor. It measured from tip to tip of the wings
eight and a half feet, and from beak to tail four feet. This bird
is known to have a wide geographical range, being found on the west
coast of South America, from the Strait of Magellan along the
Cordillera as far as eight degrees north of the equator. The steep
cliff near the mouth of the Rio Negro is its northern limit on the
Patagonian coast; and they have there wandered about four hundred
miles from the great central line of their habitation in the Andes.
Further south, among the bold precipices at the head of Port
Desire, the condor is not uncommon; yet only a few stragglers
occasionally visit the sea-coast. A line of cliff near the mouth of
the Santa Cruz is frequented by these birds, and about eighty miles
up the river, where the sides of the valley are formed by steep
basaltic precipices, the condor reappears. From these facts, it
seems that the condors require perpendicular cliffs. In Chile, they
haunt, during the greater part of the year, the lower country near
the shores of the Pacific, and at night several roost together in
one tree; but in the early part of summer they retire to the most
inaccessible parts of the inner Cordillera, there to breed in
peace.
With respect to their propagation, I was told by the country people
in Chile that the condor makes no sort of nest, but in the months
of November and December lays two large white eggs on a shelf of
bare rock. It is said that the young condors cannot fly for an
entire year; and long after they are able, they continue to roost
by night, an hunt by day with their parents. The old birds
generally live in pairs; but among the inland basaltic cliffs of
the Santa Cruz I found a spot where scores must usually haunt. On
coming suddenly to the brow of the precipice, it was a grand
spectacle to see between twenty and thirty of these great birds
start heavily from their resting-place, and wheel away in majestic
circles. From the quantity of dung on the rocks, they must long
have frequented this cliff for roosting and breeding. Having gorged
themselves with carrion on the plains below, they retire to these
favourite ledges to digest their food. From these facts, the
condor, like the gallinazo must to a certain degree be considered
as a gregarious bird. In this part of the country they live
altogether on the guanacos which have died a natural death, or as
more commonly happens, have been killed by the pumas. I believe,
from what I saw in Patagonia, that they do not on ordinary
occasions extend their daily excursions to any great distance from
their regular sleeping-places.
The condors may oftentimes be seen at a great height, soaring over
a certain spot in the most graceful circles. On some occasions I am
sure that they do this only for pleasure, but on others, the
Chileno countryman tells you that they are watching a dying animal,
or the puma devouring its prey. If the condors glide down, and then
suddenly all rise together, the Chileno knows that it is the puma
which, watching the carcass, has sprung out to drive away the
robbers. Besides feeding on carrion, the condors frequently attack
young goats and lambs; and the shepherd-dogs are trained, whenever
they pass over, to run out, and looking upwards to bark violently.
The Chilenos destroy and catch numbers. Two methods are used; one
is to place a carcass on a level piece of ground within an
enclosure of sticks with an opening, and when the condors are
gorged, to gallop up on horseback to the entrance, and thus enclose
them: for when this bird has not space to run, it cannot give its
body sufficient momentum to rise from the ground. The second method
is to mark the trees in which, frequently to the number of five or
six together, they roost, and then at night to climb up and noose
them. They are such heavy sleepers, as I have myself witnessed,
that this is not a difficult task. At Valparaiso I have seen a
living condor sold for sixpence, but the common price is eight or
ten shillings. One which I saw brought in, had been tied with rope,
and was much injured; yet, the moment the line was cut by which its
bill was secured, although surrounded by people, it began
ravenously to tear a piece of carrion. In a garden at the same
place, between twenty and thirty were kept alive. They were fed
only once a week, but they appeared in pretty good health. The
Chileno countrymen assert that the condor will live, and retain its
vigour, between five and six weeks without eating: I cannot answer
for the truth of this, but it is a cruel experiment, which very
likely has been tried. (9/2. I noticed that several hours before
any one of the condors died, all the lice, with which it was
infested, crawled to the outside feathers. I was assured that this
always happens.)
When an animal is killed in the country, it is well known that the
condors, like other carrion-vultures, soon gain intelligence of it,
and congregate in an inexplicable manner. In most cases it must not
be overlooked, that the birds have discovered their prey, and have
picked the skeleton clean, before the flesh is in the least degree
tainted. Remembering the experiments of M. Audubon, on the little
smelling powers of carrion-hawks, I tried in the above-mentioned
garden the following experiment: the condors were tied, each by a
rope, in a long row at the bottom of a wall; and having folded up a
piece of meat in white paper, I walked backwards and forwards,
carrying it in my hand at the distance of about three yards from
them, but no notice whatever was taken. I then threw it on the
ground, within one yard of an old male bird; he looked at it for a
moment with attention, but then regarded it no more. With a stick I
pushed it closer and closer, until at last he touched it with his
beak; the paper was then instantly torn off with fury, and at the
same moment, every bird in the long row began struggling and
flapping its wings. Under the same circumstances it would have been
quite impossible to have deceived a dog. The evidence in favour of
and against the acute smelling powers of carrion-vultures is
singularly balanced. Professor Owen has demonstrated that the
olfactory nerves of the turkey-buzzard (Cathartes aura) are highly
developed, and on the evening when Mr. Owen's paper was read at the
Zoological Society, it was mentioned by a gentleman that he had
seen the carrion-hawks in the West Indies on two occasions collect
on the roof of a house, when a corpse had become offensive from not
having been buried: in this case, the intelligence could hardly
have been acquired by sight. On the other hand, besides the
experiments of Audubon and that one by myself, Mr. Bachman has
tried in the United States many varied plans, showing that neither
the turkey-buzzard (the species dissected by Professor Owen) nor
the gallinazo find their food by smell. He covered portions of
highly-offensive offal with a thin canvas cloth, and strewed pieces
of meat on it: these the carrion-vultures ate up, and then remained
quietly standing, with their beaks within the eighth of an inch of
the putrid mass, without discovering it. A small rent was made in
the canvas, and the offal was immediately discovered; the canvas
was replaced by a fresh piece, and meat again put on it, and was
again devoured by the vultures without their discovering the hidden
mass on which they were trampling. These facts are attested by the
signatures of six gentlemen, besides that of Mr. Bachman. (9/3.
Loudon's "Magazine of Natural History" volume 7.)
Often when lying down to rest on the open plains, on looking
upwards, I have seen carrion-hawks sailing through the air at a
great height. Where the country is level I do not believe a space
of the heavens, of more than fifteen degrees above the horizon, is
commonly viewed with any attention by a person either walking or on
horseback. If such be the case, and the vulture is on the wing at a
height of between three and four thousand feet, before it could
come within the range of vision, its distance in a straight line
from the beholder's eye would be rather more than two British
miles. Might it not thus readily be overlooked? When an animal is
killed by the sportsman in a lonely valley, may he not all the
while be watched from above by the sharp-sighted bird? And will not
the manner of its descent proclaim throughout the district to the
whole family of carrion-feeders, that their prey is at hand?
When the condors are wheeling in a flock round an round any spot,
their flight is beautiful. Except when rising from the ground, I do
not recollect ever having seen one of these birds flap its wings.
Near Lima, I watched several for nearly half an hour, without once
taking off my eyes: they moved in large curves, sweeping in
circles, descending and ascending without giving a single flap. As
they glided close over my head, I intently watched from an oblique
position the outlines of the separate and great terminal feathers
of each wing; and these separate feathers, if there had been the
least vibratory movement, would have appeared as if blended
together; but they were seen distinct against the blue sky. The
head and neck were moved frequently, and apparently with force; and
the extended wings seemed to form the fulcrum on which the
movements of the neck, body and tail acted. If the bird wished to
descend, the wings were for a moment collapsed; and when again
expanded with an altered inclination, the momentum gained by the
rapid descent seemed to urge the bird upwards with the even and
steady movement of a paper kite. In the case of any bird SOARING,
its motion must be sufficiently rapid, so that the action of the
inclined surface of its body on the atmosphere may counterbalance
its gravity. The force to keep up the momentum of a body moving in
a horizontal plane in the air (in which there is so little
friction) cannot be great, and this force is all that is wanted.
The movement of the neck and body of the condor, we must suppose is
sufficient for this. However this may be, it is truly wonderful and
beautiful to see so great a bird, hour after hour, without any
apparent exertion, wheeling and gliding over mountain and river.
APRIL 29, 1834.
From some high land we hailed with joy the white summits of the
Cordillera, as they were seen occasionally peeping through their
dusky envelope of clouds. During the few succeeding days we
continued to get on slowly, for we found the river-course very
tortuous, and strewed with immense fragments of various ancient
slaty rocks, and of granite. The plain bordering the valley had
here attained an elevation of about 1100 feet above the river, and
its character was much altered. The well-rounded pebbles of
porphyry were mingled with many immense angular fragments of basalt
and of primary rocks. The first of these erratic boulders which I
noticed was sixty-seven miles distant from the nearest mountain;
another which I measured was five yards square, and projected five
feet above the gravel. Its edges were so angular, and its size so
great, that I at first mistook it for a rock in situ, and took out
my compass to observe the direction of its cleavage. The plain here
was not quite so level as that nearer the coast, but yet it
betrayed no signs of any great violence. Under these circumstances
it is, I believe, quite impossible to explain the transportal of
these gigantic masses of rock so many miles from their
parent-source, on any theory except by that of floating icebergs.
During the two last days we met with signs of horses, and with
several small articles which had belonged to the Indians--such as
parts of a mantle and a bunch of ostrich feathers--but they
appeared to have been lying long on the ground. Between the place
where the Indians had so lately crossed the river and this
neighbourhood, though so many miles apart, the country appears to
be quite unfrequented. At first, considering the abundance of the
guanacos, I was surprised at this; but it is explained by the stony
nature of the plains, which would soon disable an unshod horse from
taking part in the chase. Nevertheless, in two places in this very
central region, I found small heaps of stones, which I do not think
could have been accidentally thrown together. They were placed on
points projecting over the edge of the highest lava cliff, and they
resembled, but on a small scale, those near Port Desire.
MAY 4, 1834.
Captain Fitz Roy determined to take the boats no higher. The river
had a winding course, and was very rapid; and the appearance of the
country offered no temptation to proceed any farther. Everywhere we
met with the same productions, and the same dreary landscape. We
were now one hundred and forty miles distant from the Atlantic, and
about sixty from the nearest arm of the Pacific. The valley in this
upper part expanded into a wide basin, bounded on the north and
south by the basaltic platforms, and fronted by the long range of
the snow-clad Cordillera. But we viewed these grand mountains with
regret, for we were obliged to imagine their nature and
productions, instead of standing, as we had hoped, on their
summits. Besides the useless loss of time which an attempt to
ascend the river any higher would have cost us, we had already been
for some days on half allowance of bread. This, although really
enough for reasonable men, was, after a hard day's march, rather
scanty food: a light stomach and an easy digestion are good things
to talk about, but very unpleasant in practice.
MAY 5, 1834.
Before sunrise we commenced our descent. We shot down the stream
with great rapidity, generally at the rate of ten knots an hour. In
this one day we effected what had cost us five and a half hard
days' labour in ascending. On the 8th we reached the "Beagle" after
our twenty-one days' expedition. Every one, excepting myself, had
cause to be dissatisfied; but to me the ascent afforded a most
interesting section of the great tertiary formation of Patagonia.
On March 1st, 1833, and again on March 16th, 1834, the "Beagle"
anchored in Berkeley Sound, in East Falkland Island. This
archipelago is situated in nearly the same latitude with the mouth
of the Strait of Magellan; it covers a space of one hundred and
twenty by sixty geographical miles, and is a little more than half
the size of Ireland. After the possession of these miserable
islands had been contested by France, Spain, and England, they were
left uninhabited. The government of Buenos Ayres then sold them to
a private individual, but likewise used them, as old Spain had done
before, for a penal settlement. England claimed her right an seized
them. The Englishman who was left in charge of the flag was
consequently murdered. A British officer was next sent, unsupported
by any power: and when we arrived, we found him in charge of a
population, of which rather more than half were runaway rebels and
murderers.
The theatre is worthy of the scenes acted on it. An undulating
land, with a desolate and wretched aspect, is everywhere covered by
a peaty soil and wiry grass, of one monotonous brown colour. Here
and there a peak or ridge of grey quartz rock breaks through the
smooth surface. Every one has heard of the climate of these
regions; it may be compared to that which is experienced at the
height of between one and two thousand feet, on the mountains of
North Wales; having however less sunshine and less frost, but more
wind and rain. (9/4. From accounts published since our voyage, and
more especially from several interesting letters from Captain
Sulivan, R.N., employed on the survey, it appears that we took an
exaggerated view of the badness of the climate on these islands.
But when I reflect on the almost universal covering of peat, and on
the fact of wheat seldom ripening here, I can hardly believe that
the climate in summer is so fine and dry as it has lately been
represented.)
MAY 16, 1834.
I will now describe a short excursion which I made round a part of
this island. In the morning I started with six horses and two
Gauchos: the latter were capital men for the purpose, and well
accustomed to living on their own resources. The weather was very
boisterous and cold, with heavy hail-storms. We got on, however,
pretty well, but, except the geology, nothing could be less
interesting than our day's ride. The country is uniformly the same
undulating moorland; the surface being covered by light brown
withered grass and a few very small shrubs, all springing out of an
elastic peaty soil. In the valleys here and there might be seen a
small flock of wild geese, and everywhere the ground was so soft
that the snipe were able to feed. Besides these two birds there
were few others. There is one main range of hills, nearly two
thousand feet in height, and composed of quartz rock, the rugged
and barren crests of which gave us some trouble to cross. On the
south side we came to the best country for wild cattle; we met,
however, no great number, for they had been lately much harassed.
In the evening we came across a small herd. One of my companions,
St. Jago by name, soon separated a fat cow; he threw the bolas, and
it struck her legs, but failed in becoming entangled. Then dropping
his hat to mark the spot where the balls were left, while at full
gallop he uncoiled his lazo, and after a most severe chase again
came up to the cow, and caught her round the horns. The other
Gaucho had gone on ahead with the spare horses, so that St. Jago
had some difficulty in killing the furious beast. He managed to get
her on a level piece of ground, by taking advantage of her as often
as she rushed at him; and when she would not move, my horse, from
having been trained, would canter up, and with his chest give her a
violent push. But when on level ground it does not appear an easy
job for one man to kill a beast mad with terror. Nor would it be so
if the horse, when left to itself without its rider, did not soon
learn, for its own safety, to keep the lazo tight; so that, if the
cow or ox moves forward, the horse moves just as quickly forward;
otherwise, it stands motionless leaning on one side. This horse,
however, was a young one, and would not stand still, but gave in to
the cow as she struggled. It was admirable to see with what
dexterity St. Jago dodged behind the beast, till at last he
contrived to give the fatal touch to the main tendon of the hind
leg; after which, without much difficulty, he drove his knife into
the head of the spinal marrow, and the cow dropped as if struck by
lightning. He cut off pieces of flesh with the skin to it, but
without any bones, sufficient for our expedition. We then rode on
to our sleeping-place, and had for supper "carne con cuero," or
meat roasted with the skin on it. This is as superior to common
beef as venison is to mutton. A large circular piece taken from the
back is roasted on the embers with the hide downwards and in the
form of a saucer, so that none of the gravy is lost. If any worthy
alderman had supped with us that evening, "carne con cuero,"
without doubt, would soon have been celebrated in London.
During the night it rained, and the next day (17th) was very
stormy, with much hail and snow. We rode across the island to the
neck of land which joins the Rincon del Tor (the great peninsula at
the south-west extremity) to the rest of the island. From the great
number of cows which have been killed, there is a large proportion
of bulls. These wander about single, or two and three together, and
are very savage. I never saw such magnificent beasts; they equalled
in the size of their huge heads and necks the Grecian marble
sculptures. Captain Sulivan informs me that the hide of an
average-sized bull weighs forty-seven pounds, whereas a hide of
this weight, less thoroughly dried, is considered as a very heavy
one at Monte Video. The young bulls generally run away for a short
distance; but the old ones do not stir a step, except to rush at
man and horse; and many horses have been thus killed. An old bull
crossed a boggy stream, and took his stand on the opposite side to
us; we in vain tried to drive him away, and failing, were obliged
to make a large circuit. The Gauchos in revenge determined to
emasculate him and render him for the future harmless. It was very
interesting to see how art completely mastered force. One lazo was
thrown over his horns as he rushed at the horse, and another round
his hind legs: in a minute the monster was stretched powerless on
the ground. After the lazo has once been drawn tightly round the
horns of a furious animal, it does not at first appear an easy
thing to disengage it again without killing the beast: nor, I
apprehend, would it be so if the man was by himself. By the aid,
however, of a second person throwing his lazo so as to catch both
hind legs, it is quickly managed: for the animal, as long as its
hind legs are kept outstretched, is quite helpless, and the first
man can with his hands loosen his lazo from the horns, and then
quietly mount his horse; but the moment the second man, by backing
ever so little, relaxes the strain, the lazo slips off the legs of
the struggling beast which then rises free, shakes himself, and
vainly rushes at his antagonist.
During our whole ride we saw only one troop of wild horses. These
animals, as well as the cattle, were introduced by the French in
1764, since which time both have greatly increased. It is a curious
fact that the horses have never left the eastern end of the island,
although there is no natural boundary to prevent them from roaming,
and that part of the island is not more tempting than the rest. The
Gauchos whom I asked, though asserting this to be the case, were
unable to account for it, except from the strong attachment which
horses have to any locality to which they are accustomed.
Considering that the island does not appear fully stocked, and that
there are no beasts of prey, I was particularly curious to know
what has checked their originally rapid increase. That in a limited
island some check would sooner or later supervene, is inevitable;
but why has the increase of the horse been checked sooner than that
of the cattle? Captain Sulivan has taken much pains for me in this
inquiry. The Gauchos employed here attribute it chiefly to the
stallions constantly roaming from place to place, and compelling
the mares to accompany them, whether or not the young foals are
able to follow. One Gaucho told Captain Sulivan that he had watched
a stallion for a whole hour, violently kicking and biting a mare
till he forced her to leave her foal to its fate. Captain Sulivan
can so far corroborate this curious account, that he has several
times found young foals dead, whereas he has never found a dead
calf. Moreover, the dead bodies of full-grown horses are more
frequently found, as if more subject to disease or accidents than
those of the cattle. From the softness of the ground their hoofs
often grow irregularly to a great length, and this causes lameness.
The predominant colours are roan and iron-grey. All the horses bred
here, both tame and wild, are rather small-sized, though generally
in good condition; and they have lost so much strength, that they
are unfit to be used in taking wild cattle with the lazo: in
consequence, it is necessary to go to the great expense of
importing fresh horses from the Plata. At some future period the
southern hemisphere probably will have its breed of Falkland
ponies, as the northern has its Shetland breed.
The cattle, instead of having degenerated like the horses, seem, as
before remarked, to have increased in size; and they are much more
numerous than the horses. Captain Sulivan informs me that they vary
much less in the general form of their bodies and in the shape of
their horns than English cattle. In colour they differ much; and it
is a remarkable circumstance, that in different parts of this one
small island, different colours predominate. Round Mount Usborne,
at a height of from 1000 to 1500 feet above the sea, about half of
some of the herds are mouse or lead coloured, a tint which is not
common in other parts of the island. Near Port Pleasant dark brown
prevails, whereas south of Choiseul Sound (which almost divides the
island into two parts) white beasts with black heads and feet are
the most common: in all parts black, and some spotted animals may
be observed. Captain Sulivan remarks that the difference in the
prevailing colours was so obvious, that in looking for the herds
near Port Pleasant, they appeared from a long distance like black
spots, whilst south of Choiseul Sound they appeared like white
spots on the hill-sides. Captain Sulivan thinks that the herds do
not mingle; and it is a singular fact, that the mouse-coloured
cattle, though living on the high land, calve about a month earlier
in the season than the other coloured beasts on the lower land. It
is interesting thus to find the once domesticated cattle breaking
into three colours, of which some one colour would in all
probability ultimately prevail over the others, if the herd were
left undisturbed for the next several centuries.
The rabbit is another animal which has been introduced, and has
succeeded very well; so that they abound over large parts of the
island. Yet, like the horses, they are confined within certain
limits; for they have not crossed the central chain of hills, nor
would they have extended even so far as its base, if, as the
Gauchos informed me, small colonies had not been carried there. I
should not have supposed that these animals, natives of Northern
Africa, could have existed in a climate so humid as this, and which
enjoys so little sunshine that even wheat ripens only occasionally.
It is asserted that in Sweden, which any one would have thought a
more favourable climate, the rabbit cannot live out of doors. The
first few pairs, moreover, had here to contend against pre-existing
enemies, in the fox and some large hawks. The French naturalists
have considered the black variety a distinct species, and called it
Lepus Magellanicus. (9/5. Lesson's "Zoology of the Voyage of the
Coquille" tome 1 page 168. All the early voyagers, and especially
Bougainville, distinctly state that the wolf-like fox was the only
native animal on the island. The distinction of the rabbit as a
species is taken from peculiarities in the fur, from the shape of
the head, and from the shortness of the ears. I may here observe
that the difference between the Irish and English hare rests upon
nearly similar characters, only more strongly marked.) They
imagined that Magellan, when talking of an animal under the name of
"conejos" in the Strait of Magellan, referred to this species; but
he was alluding to a small cavy, which to this day is thus called
by the Spaniards. The Gauchos laughed at the idea of the black kind
being different from the grey, and they said that at all events it
had not extended its range any farther than the grey kind; that the
two were never found separate; and that they readily bred together,
and produced piebald offspring. Of the latter I now possess a
specimen, and it is marked about the head differently from the
French specific description. This circumstance shows how cautious
naturalists should be in making species; for even Cuvier, on
looking at the skull of one of these rabbits, thought it was
probably distinct!
The only quadruped native to the island is a large wolf-like fox
(Canis antarcticus), which is common to both East and West
Falkland. (9/6. I have reason, however, to suspect that there is a
field-mouse. The common European rat and mouse have roamed far from
the habitations of the settlers. The common hog has also run wild
on one islet; all are of a black colour: the boars are very fierce,
and have great tusks.) I have no doubt it is a peculiar species,
and confined to this archipelago; because many sealers, Gauchos,
and Indians, who have visited these islands, all maintain that no
such animal is found in any part of South America. Molina, from a
similarity in habits, thought that this was the same with his
"culpeu" (9/7. The "culpeu" is the Canis Magellanicus brought home
by Captain King from the Strait of Magellan. It is common in
Chile.); but I have seen both, and they are quite distinct. These
wolves are well known from Byron's account of their tameness and
curiosity, which the sailors, who ran into the water to avoid them,
mistook for fierceness. To this day their manners remain the same.
They have been observed to enter a tent, and actually pull some
meat from beneath the head of a sleeping seaman. The Gauchos also
have frequently in the evening killed them, by holding out a piece
of meat in one hand, and in the other a knife ready to stick them.
As far as I am aware, there is no other instance in any part of the
world, of so small a mass of broken land, distant from a continent,
possessing so large an aboriginal quadruped peculiar to itself.
Their numbers have rapidly decreased; they are already banished
from that half of the island which lies to the eastward of the neck
of land between St. Salvador Bay and Berkeley Sound. Within a very
few years after these islands shall have become regularly settled,
in all probability this fox will be classed with the dodo, as an
animal which has perished from the face of the earth.
At night (17th) we slept on the neck of land at the head of
Choiseul Sound, which forms the south-west peninsula. The valley
was pretty well sheltered from the cold wind; but there was very
little brushwood for fuel. The Gauchos, however, soon found what,
to my great surprise, made nearly as hot a fire as coals; this was
the skeleton of a bullock lately killed, from which the flesh had
been picked by the carrion-hawks. They told me that in winter they
often killed a beast, cleaned the flesh from the bones with their
knives and then with these same bones roasted the meat for their
suppers.
MAY 18, 1834.
It rained during nearly the whole day. At night we managed,
however, with our saddle-cloths to keep ourselves pretty well dry
and warm; but the ground on which we slept was on each occasion
nearly in the state of a bog, and there was not a dry spot to sit
down on after our day's ride. I have in another part stated how
singular it is that there should be absolutely no trees on these
islands, although Tierra del Fuego is covered by one large forest.
The largest bush in the island (belonging to the family of
Compositae) is scarcely so tall as our gorse. The best fuel is
afforded by a green little bush about the size of common heath,
which has the useful property of burning while fresh and green. It
was very surprising to see the Gauchos, in the midst of rain and
everything soaking wet, with nothing more than a tinder-box and a
piece of rag, immediately make a fire. They sought beneath the
tufts of grass and bushes for a few dry twigs, and these they
rubbed into fibres; then surrounding them with coarser twigs,
something like a bird's nest, they put the rag with its spark of
fire in the middle and covered it up. The nest being then held up
to the wind, by degrees it smoked more and more, and at last burst
out in flames. I do not think any other method would have had a
chance of succeeding with such damp materials.
MAY 19, 1834.
Each morning, from not having ridden for some time previously, I
was very stiff. I was surprised to hear the Gauchos, who have from
infancy almost lived on horseback, say that, under similar
circumstances, they always suffer. St. Jago told me, that having
been confined for three months by illness, he went out hunting wild
cattle, and in consequence, for the next two days, his thighs were
so stiff that he was obliged to lie in bed. This shows that the
Gauchos, although they do not appear to do so, yet really must
exert much muscular effort in riding. The hunting wild cattle, in a
country so difficult to pass as this is on account of the swampy
ground, must be very hard work. The Gauchos say they often pass at
full speed over ground which would be impassable at a slower pace;
in the same manner as a man is able to skate over thin ice. When
hunting, the party endeavours to get as close as possible to the
herd without being discovered. Each man carries four or five pair
of the bolas; these he throws one after the other at as many
cattle, which, when once entangled, are left for some days, till
they become a little exhausted by hunger and struggling. They are
then let free and driven towards a small herd of tame animals,
which have been brought to the spot on purpose. From their previous
treatment, being too much terrified to leave the herd, they are
easily driven, if their strength last out, to the settlement.
The weather continued so very bad that we determine to make a push,
and try to reach the vessel before night. From the quantity of rain
which had fallen, the surface of the whole country was swampy. I
suppose my horse fell at least a dozen times, and sometimes the
whole six horses were floundering in the mud together. All the
little streams are bordered by soft peat, which makes it very
difficult for the horses to leap them without falling. To complete
our discomforts we were obliged to cross the head of a creek of the
sea, in which the water was as high as our horses' backs; and the
little waves, owing to the violence of the wind, broke over us, and
made us very wet and cold. Even the iron-framed Gauchos professed
themselves glad when they reached the settlement, after our little
excursion.
The geological structure of these islands is in most respects
simple. The lower country consists of clay-slate and sandstone,
containing fossils, very closely related to, but not identical
with, those found in the Silurian formations of Europe; the hills
are formed of white granular quartz rock. The strata of the latter
are frequently arched with perfect symmetry, and the appearance of
some of the masses is in consequence most singular. Pernety has
devoted several pages to the description of a Hill of Ruins, the
successive strata of which he has justly compared to the seats of
an amphitheatre. (9/8. Pernety "Voyage aux Isles Malouines" page
526.) The quartz rock must have been quite pasty when it underwent
such remarkable flexures without being shattered into fragments. As
the quartz insensibly passes into the sandstone, it seems probable
that the former owes its origin to the sandstone having been heated
to such a degree that it became viscid, and upon cooling
crystallised. While in the soft state it must have been pushed up
through the overlying beds.
In many parts of the island the bottoms of the valleys are covered
in an extraordinary manner by myriads of great loose angular
fragments of the quartz rock, forming "streams of stones." These
have been mentioned with surprise by every voyager since the time
of Pernety. The blocks are not waterworn, their angles being only
a little blunted; they vary in size from one or two feet in
diameter to ten, or even more than twenty times as much. They are
not thrown together into irregular piles, but are spread out into
level sheets or great streams. It is not possible to ascertain
their thickness, but the water of small streamlets can be heard
trickling through the stones many feet below the surface. The
actual depth is probably great, because the crevices between the
lower fragments must long ago have been filled up with sand. The
width of these sheets of stones varies from a few hundred feet to a
mile; but the peaty soil daily encroaches on the borders, and even
forms islets wherever a few fragments happen to lie close together.
In a valley south of Berkeley Sound, which some of our party called
the "great valley of fragments," it was necessary to cross an
uninterrupted band half a mile wide, by jumping from one pointed
stone to another. So large were the fragments, that being overtaken
by a shower of rain, I readily found shelter beneath one of them.
Their little inclination is the most remarkable circumstance in
these "streams of stones." On the hill-sides I have seen them
sloping at an angle of ten degrees with the horizon; but in some of
the level, broad-bottomed valleys, the inclination is only just
sufficient to be clearly perceived. On so rugged a surface there
was no means of measuring the angle; but to give a common
illustration, I may say that the slope would not have checked the
speed of an English mail-coach. In some places a continuous stream
of these fragments followed up the course of a valley, and even
extended to the very crest of the hill. On these crests huge
masses, exceeding in dimensions any small building, seemed to stand
arrested in their headlong course: there, also, the curved strata
of the archways lay piled on each other, like the ruins of some
vast and ancient cathedral. In endeavouring to describe these
scenes of violence one is tempted to pass from one simile to
another. We may imagine that streams of white lava had flowed from
many parts of the mountains into the lower country, and that when
solidified they had been rent by some enormous convulsion into
myriads of fragments. The expression "streams of stones," which
immediately occurred to every one, conveys the same idea. These
scenes are on the spot rendered more striking by the contrast of
the low, rounded forms of the neighbouring hills.
I was interested by finding on the highest peak of one range (about
700 feet above the sea) a great arched fragment, lying on its
convex side, or back downwards. Must we believe that it was fairly
pitched up in the air, and thus turned? Or, with more probability,
that there existed formerly a part of the same range more elevated
than the point on which this monument of a great convulsion of
nature now lies. As the fragments in the valleys are neither
rounded nor the crevices filled up with sand, we must infer that
the period of violence was subsequent to the land having been
raised above the waters of the sea. In a transverse section within
these valleys the bottom is nearly level, or rises but very little
towards either side. Hence the fragments appear to have travelled
from the head of the valley; but in reality it seems more probable
that they have been hurled down from the nearest slopes; and that
since, by a vibratory movement of overwhelming force, the fragments
have been levelled into one continuous sheet. (9/9. "Nous n'avons
pas été moins saisis d'étonnement à la vûe de l'innombrable
quantité de pierres de toutes grandeurs, bouleversées les unes sur
les autres, et cependant rangées, comme si elles avoient été
amoncelées négligemment pour remplir des ravins. On ne se lassoit
pas d'admirer les effets prodigieux de la nature." "Pernety" page
526.) If during the earthquake which in 1835 overthrew Concepcion,
in Chile, it was thought wonderful that small bodies should have
been pitched a few inches from the ground, what must we say to a
movement which has caused fragments many tons in weight to move
onwards like so much sand on a vibrating board, and find their
level? (9/10. An inhabitant of Mendoza, and hence well capable of
judging, assured me that, during the several years he had resided
on these islands, he had never felt the slightest shock of an
earthquake.) I have seen, in the Cordillera of the Andes, the
evident marks where stupendous mountains have been broken into
pieces like so much thin crust, and the strata thrown on their
vertical edges; but never did any scene, like these "streams of
stones," so forcibly convey to my mind the idea of a convulsion, of
which in historical records we might in vain seek for any
counterpart: yet the progress of knowledge will probably some day
give a simple explanation of this phenomenon, as it already has of
the so long thought inexplicable transportal of the erratic
boulders which are strewed over the plains of Europe.
I have little to remark on the zoology of these islands. I have
before described the carrion-vulture of Polyborus. There are some
other hawks, owls, and a few small land-birds. The waterfowl are
particularly numerous, and they must formerly, from the accounts of
the old navigators, have been much more so. One day I observed a
cormorant playing with a fish which it had caught. Eight times
successively the bird let its prey go, then dived after it, and
although in deep water, brought it each time to the surface. In the
Zoological Gardens I have seen the otter treat a fish in the same
manner, much as a cat does a mouse: I do not know of any other
instance where dame Nature appears so wilfully cruel. Another day,
having placed myself between a penguin (Aptenodytes demersa) and
the water, I was much amused by watching its habits. It was a brave
bird; and till reaching the sea, it regularly fought and drove me
backwards. Nothing less than heavy blows would have stopped him;
every inch he gained he firmly kept, standing close before me erect
and determined. When thus opposed he continually rolled his head
from side to side, in a very odd manner, as if the power of
distinct vision lay only in the anterior and basal part of each
eye. This bird is commonly called the jackass penguin, from its
habit, while on shore, of throwing its head backwards, and making a
loud strange noise, very like the braying of an ass; but while at
sea, and undisturbed, its note is very deep and solemn, and is
often heard in the night-time. In diving, its little wings are used
as fins; but on the land, as front legs. When crawling, it may be
said on four legs, through the tussocks or on the side of a grassy
cliff, it moves so very quickly that it might easily be mistaken
for a quadruped. When at sea and fishing, it comes to the surface
for the purpose of breathing with such a spring, and dives again so
instantaneously, that I defy any one at first sight to be sure that
it was not a fish leaping for sport.
Two kinds of geese frequent the Falklands. The upland species (Anas
Magellanica) is common, in pairs and in small flocks, throughout
the island. They do not migrate, but build on the small outlying
islets. This is supposed to be from fear of the foxes: and it is
perhaps from the same cause that these birds, though very tame by
day, are shy and wild in the dusk of the evening. They live
entirely on vegetable matter. The rock-goose, so called from living
exclusively on the sea-beach (Anas antarctica), is common both here
and on the west coast of America, as far north as Chile. In the
deep and retired channels of Tierra del Fuego, the snow-white
gander, invariably accompanied by his darker consort, and standing
close by each other on some distant rocky point, is a common
feature in the landscape.
In these islands a great loggerheaded duck or goose (Anas
brachyptera), which sometimes weighs twenty-two pounds, is very
abundant. These birds were in former days called, from their
extraordinary manner of paddling and splashing upon the water,
racehorses; but now they are named, much more appropriately,
steamers. Their wings are too small and weak to allow of flight,
but by their aid, partly swimming and partly flapping the surface
of the water, they move very quickly. The manner is something like
that by which the common house-duck escapes when pursued by a dog;
but I am nearly sure that the steamer moves its wings alternately,
instead of both together, as in other birds. These clumsy,
loggerheaded ducks make such a noise and splashing, that the effect
is exceedingly curious.
Thus we find in South America three birds which use their wings for
other purposes besides flight; the penguin as fins, the steamer as
paddles, and the ostrich as sails: and the Apteryx of New Zealand,
as well as its gigantic extinct prototype the Deinornis, possess
only rudimentary representatives of wings. The steamer is able to
dive only to a very short distance. It feeds entirely on shell-fish
from the kelp and tidal rocks; hence the beak and head, for the
purpose of breaking them, are surprisingly heavy and strong: the
head is so strong that I have scarcely been able to fracture it
with my geological hammer; and all our sportsmen soon discovered
how tenacious these birds were of life. When in the evening pluming
themselves in a flock, they make the same odd mixture of sounds
which bull-frogs do within the tropics.
In Tierra del Fuego, as well as in the Falkland Islands, I made
many observations on the lower marine animals, but they are of
little general interest. (9/11. I was surprised to find, on
counting the eggs of a large white Doris (this sea-slug was three
and a half inches long), how extraordinarily numerous they were.
From two to five eggs (each three-thousandths of an inch in
diameter) were contained in spherical little case. These were
arranged two deep in transverse rows forming a ribbon. The ribbon
adhered by its edge to the rock in an oval spire. One which I found
measured nearly twenty inches in length and half in breadth. By
counting how many balls were contained in a tenth of an inch in the
row, and how many rows in an equal length of the ribbon, on the
most moderate computation there were six hundred thousand eggs. Yet
this Doris was certainly not very common: although I was often
searching under the stones, I saw only seven individuals. NO
FALLACY IS MORE COMMON WITH NATURALISTS, THAN THAT THE NUMBERS OF
AN INDIVIDUAL SPECIES DEPEND ON ITS POWERS OF PROPAGATION.) I will
mention only one class of facts, relating to certain zoophytes in
the more highly organised division of that class. Several genera
(Flustra, Eschara, Cellaria, Crisia, and others) agree in having
singular movable organs (like those of Flustra avicularia, found in
the European seas) attached to their cells. The organ, in the
greater number of cases, very closely resembles the head of a
vulture; but the lower mandible can be opened much wider than in a
real bird's beak. The head itself possesses considerable powers of
movement, by means of a short neck. In one zoophyte the head itself
was fixed, but the lower jaw free: in another it was replaced by a
triangular hood, with a beautifully-fitted trap-door, which
evidently answered to the lower mandible. In the greater number of
species, each cell was provided with one head, but in others each
cell had two.
The young cells at the end of the branches of these corallines
contain quite immature polypi, yet the vulture-heads attached to
them, though small, are in every respect perfect. When the polypus
was removed by a needle from any of the cells, these organs did not
appear in the least affected. When one of the vulture-like heads
was cut off from the cell, the lower mandible retained its power of
opening and closing. Perhaps the most singular part of their
structure is, that when there were more than two rows of cells on a
branch, the central cells were furnished with these appendages, of
only one-fourth the size of the outside ones. Their movements
varied according to the species; but in some I never saw the least
motion; while others, with the lower mandible generally wide open,
oscillated backwards and forwards at the rate of about five seconds
each turn; others moved rapidly and by starts. When touched with a
needle, the beak generally seized the point so firmly that the
whole branch might be shaken.
These bodies have no relation whatever with the production of the
eggs or gemmules, as they are formed before the young polypi appear
in the cells at the end of the growing branches; as they move
independently of the polypi, and do not appear to be in any way
connected with them; and as they differ in size on the outer and
inner rows of cells, I have little doubt that in their functions
they are related rather to the horny axis of the branches than to
the polypi in the cells. The fleshy appendage at the lower
extremity of the sea-pen (described at Bahia Blanca) also forms
part of the zoophyte, as a whole, in the same manner as the roots
of a tree form part of the whole tree, and not of the individual
leaf or flower-buds.
In another elegant little coralline (Crisia?) each cell was
furnished with a long-toothed bristle, which had the power of
moving quickly. Each of these bristles and each of the vulture-like
heads generally moved quite independently of the others, but
sometimes all on both sides of a branch, sometimes only those on
one side, moved together coinstantaneously; sometimes each moved in
regular order one after another. In these actions we appa
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