Their Aspect in the Dry Season—Vegetable Sources—Land Spouts—Effects of the Mirage—A Savannah on Fire—Opening of the Rainy Season—Miraculous Changes—Exuberance of Animal and Vegetable Life—Conflict between Horses and Electrical Eels—Beauty of the Llanos at the Termination of the Rainy Season—The Mauritia Palm.

In South America, the features of Nature are traced on a gigantic scale. Mountains, forests, rivers, plains, there appear in far more colossal dimensions than in our part of the world. Many a branch of the MaraÑon surpasses the Danube in size. In the boundless primitive forests of Guiana more than one Great Britain could find room. The Alps would seem but of moderate elevation if placed aside of the towering Andes; and the plains of Northern Germany and Holland are utterly insignificant when compared with the Llanos of Venezuela and New Grenada, which, stretching from the coast-chain of Caraccas to the forests of Guiana, and from the snow-crowned mountains of Merida to the Delta of the Orinoco, cover a surface of more than 250,000 square miles.

Nothing can be more remarkable than the contrast which these immeasurable plains present at various seasons of the year—now parched by a long-continued drought, and now covered with the most luxuriant vegetation. When, day after day, the sun, rising and setting in a cloudless sky, pours his vertical rays upon the thirsty Llanos, the calcined grass-plains present the monotonous aspect of an interminable waste. Like the ocean, their limits melt in the hazy distance with those of the horizon; but here the resemblance ceases, for no refreshing breeze wafts coolness over the desert, and comforts the drooping spirits of the wanderer. In the wintry solitudes of Siberia the skin of the reindeer affords protection to man against the extreme cold; but in these sultry plains there is no refuge from the burning sun above and the heat reflected from the glowing soil below, save where, at vast intervals, small clumps of the Mauritia palm afford a scanty shade. The water-pools which nourished this beneficent tree have long since disappeared; and the marks of the previous rainy season, still visible on the tall reeds that spring from the marshy ground, serve only to mock the thirst of the exhausted traveller. The long-legged jabiru and the scarlet ibis have forsaken the dried-up swamp which no longer affords them any subsistence, and only here and there a solitary Caracara falcon lingers on the spot, as if meditating on the vicissitudes of the seasons.

Yet even now the parched savannah has some refreshment to bestow, as Nature—which in the East Indian forests fills the pitchers of the Nepenthes with a grateful liquid,—here also displays her bounty; for the globular melon-cactus, which flourishes on the driest soil, and not seldom measures a foot in diameter, conceals a juicy pulp under its tough and brickly skin. Guided by an admirable instinct, the wary mule strikes off with his fore-feet the long, sharp thorns of this remarkable plant, the emblem of good-nature under a rough exterior, and then cautiously approaches his lips to sip the refreshing juice. Yet, drinking from these living sources is not unattended with danger, and mules are often met with that have been lamed by the formidable prickles of the cactus. The wild horse and ox of the savannah, not gifted with the same sagacity, roam about a prey to hunger and burning thirst—the latter hoarsely bellowing, the former snuffing up the air with outstreched neck to discover by its moisture the neighbourhood of some pool that may have resisted the general drought.

Besides their interminable extent, the Llanos have several other points of resemblance to the sea. As here the water-spout, raised by contending air-currents, rises to the clouds and sweeps over the floods, thus also the glowing dust of the savannah, set in motion by conflicting winds, ascends in mighty columns and glides over the desert plain. Then woe to the traveller who cannot escape by a timely flight; for, seizing him with irresistible violence the sand spout carries him along in its embrace, and hurls him senseless to the ground.

As if ‘on a painted ocean,’ the becalmed ship rests on the glassy sea. No breath of air ruffles the surface of the waters.

The pennant hangs lazily from the mast; the water-casks are empty; the torments of thirst, aggravated by the heat of a vertical sun, become intolerable. But, suddenly, as if by magic, a beautiful island rises from the floods; waving palm-trees seem to welcome the mariner: he fancies he hears the purling of the brook and the splashing of the waterfall. Yet still the vessel moves not from the spot, and soon the fading phantom that mocked his misery leaves him the victim of increased despair.

Similar delusions of the mirage, produced by the refraction of the light as it passes through atmospherical strata of unequal warmth, and consequently of unequal density, likewise take place over the surface of the Llanos, which then assume the semblance of a sea, heaving and rocking in wave-like motion. In the Lybian desert, in the dread solitudes of the polar ocean, in every zone, we meet with the same phenomenon, produced by the same cause.

As in the arctic regions the intense cold during winter retards the pulsations, or even suspends the operations of life, so in the Llanos the long continuance of drought causes a similar stagnation in animated nature. The thinly-scattered trees and shrubs do not indeed cast their foliage, but the greyish-yellow of their leaves announces that vegetation is suspended. Buried in the clay of the dried-up pools, the alligator and the water-boa lie plunged in a deep summer-sleep, like the bear of the north in his long winter slumber; and many animals which, at other times, are found roaming over the Llanos,—such as the graceful aguti, the hoggish peccary, and the timid deer of the savannah,—have left the parched plains and migrated to the forest or the river. The large maneless puma and the spotted jaguar, following their prey to less arid regions, are now no longer seen in their former hunting-grounds, and the Indian has also disappeared with the stag whom he pursued with his poisoned arrows. In the Siberian Tundras the reindeer and the migratory birds are scared away by winter; here life is banished or suspended by an intolerable aridity.

Sometimes the ravages of fire complete the image of death on the parched savannah.

‘We had not yet penetrated far into the plain,’ says Schomburgk, ‘when we saw to the south-east high columns of smoke ascending to the skies, the sure signs of a savannah fire, and at the same time the Indians anxiously pressed us to speed on, as the burning torrent would most likely roll in our direction. Although at first we were inclined to consider their fears as exaggerated, yet the next half-hour served to convince us of the extreme peril of our situation. In whatever direction we gazed, we nowhere saw a darker patch in the grass-plain announcing the refuge of a water-pool; we could already distinguish the flames of the advancing column, already hear the bursting and crackling of the reeds, when fortunately the sharp eye of the Indians discovered some small eminences before us, only sparingly covered with a low vegetation, and to these we now careered as if Death himself were behind us. Half a minute later, and I should never have lived to relate our adventures. With beating hearts we saw the sea of fire rolling its devouring billows towards us; the suffocating smoke, striking in our faces, forced us to turn our backs upon the advancing conflagration, and to await the dreadful decision with the resignation of helpless despair.

‘And now we were in the midst of the blaze. Two arms of fire encircled the base of the little hillock on which we stood, and united before us in a waving mass, which, rolling onwards, receded farther and farther from our gaze. The flames had devoured the short grass of the hillock, but had not found sufficient nourishment for our destruction. Whole swarms of voracious vultures followed in circling flight the fiery column, like so many hungry jackals, and pounced upon the snakes and lizards which the blaze had stifled and half-calcined in its murderous embrace. When, with the rapidity of lightning, they darted upon their prey and disappeared in the clouds of smoke, it almost seemed as if they were voluntarily devoting themselves to a fiery death. Soon the deafening noise of the conflagration ceased, and the dense black clouds in the distance were the only signs that the fire was still proceeding on its devastating path over the wide wastes of the savannah.’

At length, after a long drought, when all Nature seems about to expire under the want of moisture, various signs announce the approach of the rainy season. The sky, instead of its brilliant blue, assumes a leaden tint, from the vapours which are beginning to condense. The black spot of the ‘Southern Cross,’ that most beautiful of constellations, in which, as the Indians poetically fancy, the Spirit of the savannah resides, becomes more indistinct as the transparency of the atmosphere diminishes. The mild phosphoric gleam of the Magellanic clouds expires. The fixed stars, which shone with a quiet planetary light, now twinkle even in the zenith. Like distant mountain-chains, banks of clouds begin to rise over the horizon, and accumulating in masses of increasing density, ascend higher and higher, until at length the lightning flashes from their dark bosom, and with the loud crash of thunder, the first rains burst in torrents over the thirsty land. Scarce have the showers had time to moisten the earth, when the dormant powers of vegetation begin to awaken with almost miraculous rapidity. The dull, tawny surface of the parched savannah changes as if by magic into a carpet of the liveliest green, enamelled with thousands of flowers of every colour. Stimulated by the light of early day, the mimosas expand their delicate foliage, and the fronds of the beautiful mauritias sprout forth with all the luxuriance of youthful energy.

And now, also, the animal life of the savannah awakens to the full enjoyment of existence. The horse and the ox rejoice in the grasses, under whose covert the jaguar frequently lurks, to pounce upon them with his fatal spring. On the border of the swamps, the moist clay, slowly heaving, bursts asunder, and from the tomb in which he lay embedded rises a gigantic water-snake or a huge crocodile. The new-formed pools and lakes swarm with life, and a host of water-fowl—ibises, cranes, flamingos, mycterias—make their appearance, to regale on the prodigal banquet. A new creation of insects and other unbidden guests now seek the wretched hovels of the Indians, which are sparingly scattered over the higher parts of the savannah. Countless multitudes of ants, sandflies, and mosquitos; rattlesnakes, expelled by the cold and moisture from the lower grounds; repulsive geckos, which with incredible rapidity run along the overhanging rafters; nauseous toads, which, concealing themselves by day in the dark corners of the huts, crawl forth in the evening in quest of prey; lizards, scorpions, centipedes; in a word, worms and vermin of all names and forms,—emerge from the inundated plains, for the tropical rains have gradually converted the savannah, which erewhile exhibited a waste as dreary as that of the Sahara, into a boundless lake. The swollen rivers of the steppe—the Apure, the Arachuna, the Pajara, the Arauca—pour forth their mighty streams over the plains, and boats are now able to sail for miles across the land from one river-bed into another.

On the same spot where, erewhile, the thirsty horse anxiously snuffed the air to discover by its moisture the presence of some pool, the animal is now obliged to lead an amphibious life. The mares retreat with their foals to the higher banks, which rise like islands above the waters, and as from day to day the land contracts within narrower limits, the want of forage obliges them to swim about in quest of the grasses that raise their heads above the fermenting waters. Many foals are drowned; many are surprised by the crocodiles, that fell them by a stroke of their jagged tail, and then crush them between their jaws. Horses and oxen are not seldom met with, which, having fortunately escaped these huge saurians, bear on their limbs the marks of their sharp teeth.

‘This sight,’ says Humboldt, ‘involuntarily reminds the observer of the great pliability with which nature has endowed several plants and animals. Along with the fruits of Ceres, the horse and the ox have followed man over the whole earth, from the Granges to the La Plata, and from the coast of Africa to the mountain-plain of Antisana, which is more elevated than the lofty peak of Teneriffe. Here the northern birch-tree, there the date-palm, protects the tired ox from the heat of the mid-day sun. The same species of animal which contends in eastern Europe with bears and wolves, is attacked in another zone by the tiger and the crocodile.’

But it is not the jaguar and the alligator alone which lie in wait for the South American horse, for even among the fishes he has a dangerous enemy. The rivers and marshes of the Llanos are often filled with electrical eels, which send forth at will from the under part of the tail a stunning shock. These eels are from five to six feet long. They are able, when in full vigour, to kill the largest animals, when they suddenly unload their electrical organs in a favourable direction. Humboldt having accidentally set his foot on a gymnote which had just been taken out of the water felt the whole day severe pains in the knees and almost in every joint. Lizards, turtles, and frogs seek the morasses where they are safe from their discharges, and all other fishes, aware of their power, fly at the sight of the formidable gymnotes. They stun even the angler on the high river-bank, the moist line serving as a conductor for the electric fluid. The capture of these eels affords a highly entertaining and animated scene. Mules and horses are driven into the pond which the Indians surround, until the unwonted noise and splashing of the waters rouse the fishes to an attack. Gliding along, they creep under the belly of the horses, many of whom die from the shock of their strokes; while others, with mane erect, and dilated nostrils, endeavour to flee from the electric storm which they have roused. But the Indians, armed with long poles, drive them back again into the pool.

Gradually the unequal contest subsides. Like spent thunderclouds, the exhausted fishes disperse, for they require a long rest and plentiful food to repair the loss of their galvanic powers. Their shocks grow weaker and weaker. Terrified by the noise of the horses, they timidly approach the banks, when, wounded with harpoons, they are dragged on shore with dry and nonconducting pieces of wood; and thus the strange combat ends. The Llanos are never more beautiful than at the end of the rainy season, before the sun has absorbed the moisture of the soil. Then every plant is robed with the freshest green; an agreeable breeze, cooled by the evaporating waters, undulates over the sea of grasses, and at night a host of stars shines mildly upon the fragrant savannah, or the silvery moonbeam trembles on its surface. Where on the margin of the primitive forest, girt with colossal cactuses and agaves, groups of the mauritia rise majestically over the plain, the stateliest park ever planted by man must yield in beauty to the charming picture of these natural gardens, bordered here by impenetrable thickets, and there by the blue mountain-chain, behind which the fancy paints scenes of still more enchanting loveliness.

The mauritia, the chief ornament of the park-like savannah, and no less useful than the date-tree of the African oasis, provides the Indian with almost every necessary, and fully deserves the name of ‘tree of life,’ bestowed upon it by the poetical fancy of the Jesuit Gumilla. Rising to the height of a hundred feet, its slender trunk is surmounted by a magnificent tuft of large, fan-shaped fronds, of a brilliant green, under whose canopy the scaly fruits, resembling pine cones, hang in large clusters. Like the banana, they afford a food differing in taste according to the stages of ripeness in which they are plucked; and before the blossoms of the male palm have expanded, its trunk contains a nutritious pith like sago, which, dried in thin slices, forms one of the chief articles of the Indian’s bill of fare. Like his brethren of the Eastern world, he also knows how to prepare an intoxicating ‘toddy’ from the juice of the flower-spathes; the leaves serve to cover his hut; out of the fibres of their petioles he manufactures twine and cordage; and the sheaths at their base afford him material for his sandals.

At the mouth of the Orinoco the very existence of the yet unsubdued Guaranas depends on the mauritia, which gives them both food and liberty. Formerly, when this tribe was more numerous than at the present day, they raised their huts on floorings stretched from trunk to trunk, and formed of the leaf-stalks of their tutelary palm. Thus, like the monkeys and parrots of their native wilds, they lived in the trees during the inundations of the Delta in the rainy season. These platforms were partly covered with moist clay, on which fire was made for household purposes; and the flames afforded a strange sight to travellers sailing on the river at night. Even now the light-footed Guaranas owe their independence to the marshy nature of their territory, and to their arboreal life.

The fruits of the mauritia, besides affording food to the Indian, are eagerly devoured by monkeys and parrots. On approaching a group of palms at the time when the fruits are ripening, the profound silence which within the tropics chiefly characterises the noon, is interrupted by a scream of warning, and soon after a numerous troop of birds wheels screeching about the grove.

When the Spaniards first settled in the beautiful mountain valleys of Caraccas and on the Orinoco, they found the Llanos, in spite of their abundant verdure, almost entirely uninhabited by man, for the Indians were unacquainted with pastoral life; and if the mauritia had not here and there tempted a few savages to settle on the open savannahs, they would have been left entirely to the animal life which from time immemorial had thriven on their herbage. But the Spaniards introduced new quadrupeds into the new world,—the ox, the horse, the ass, our faithful companions over the whole surface of the globe,—and the progeny of these domestic animals, returning to their wild state, has multiplied amazingly in the vast pastures of the Llanos. Man has followed them into their new domain; and small hamlets, often situated whole days’ journeys one from another, and consisting only of a few wretched huts, though generally dignified with the name of towns, proclaim that he has at least made a beginning to establish his empire over these boundless plains.