The Naturalist on the River Amazons [189]
fire and remove our supper materials to the sleeping ground, a spit of sand about a mile off-- this course being necessary on account of the mosquitoes which swarm at night on the borders of the forest.
One of the sentinels was a taciturn, morose-looking, but sober and honest Indian, named Daniel; the other was a noted character of Ega, a little wiry Mameluco, named Carepira (Fish-hawk)-- known for his waggery, propensity for strong drink, and indebtedness to Ega traders. Both were intrepid canoemen and huntsmen, and both perfectly at home anywhere in these fearful wastes of forest and water. Carepira had his son with him-- a quiet little lad of about nine years of age. These men in a few minutes constructed a small shed with four upright poles and leaves of the arrow-grass, under which Cardozo and I slung our hammocks. We did not go to sleep, however, until after midnight-- for when supper was over, we lay about on the sand with a flask of rum in our midst and whiled away the still hours in listening to Carepira's stories.
I rose from my hammock by daylight, shivering with cold; a praia, on account of the great radiation of heat in the night from the sand, being towards the dawn the coldest place that can be found in this climate. Cardozo and the men were already up watching the turtles. The sentinels had erected for this purpose a stage about fifty feet high, on a tall tree near their station, the ascent to which was by a roughly-made ladder of woody lianas. They are enabled, by observing the turtles from this watchtower, to ascertain the date of successive deposits of eggs, and thus guide the commandante in fixing the time for the general invitation to the Ega people. The turtles lay their eggs by night, leaving the water when nothing disturbs them, in vast crowds, and crawling to the central and highest part of the praia. These places are, of course, the last to go under water when, in unusually wet seasons, the river rises before the eggs are hatched by the heat of the sand. One could almost believe from this that the animals used forethought in choosing a place; but it is simply one of those many instances in animals where unconscious habit has the same result as conscious prevision. The hours between midnight and dawn are the busiest. The turtles excavate with their broad, webbed paws, deep holes in the fine sand-- the first corner, in each case, making a pit about three feet deep, laying its eggs (about 120 in number) and covering them with sand; the next making its deposit at the top of that of its predecessor, and so on until every pit is full. The whole body of turtles frequenting a praia does not finish laying in less than fourteen or fifteen days, even when there is no interruption. When all have done, the area (called by the Brazilians taboleiro) over which they have excavated is distinguishable from the rest of the praia only by signs of the sand having been a little disturbed.
On rising, I went to join my friends. Few recollections of my Amazonian rambles are more vivid and agreeable than that of my walk over the white sea of sand on this cool morning. The sky was cloudless; the just-risen sun was hidden behind the dark mass of woods on Shimuni, but the long line of forest to the west, on Baria, with its plumy decorations of palms, was lighted up with his yellow, horizontal rays. A faint chorus of singing birds reached the ears from across the water, and flocks of gulls and plovers were drying plaintively over the swelling banks of the praia, where their eggs lay in nests made in little hollows of the sand. Tracks of stray turtles were visible on the smooth white surface of the praia. The animals which thus wander from the main body are lawful prizes of the sentinels; they had caught in this way two before sunrise, one of which we had for dinner. In my walk I disturbed several pairs of the chocolate and drab- coloured wild-goose (Anser jubatus) which set off to run along the edge of the water. The enjoyment one feels in rambling over these free, open spaces, is no doubt enhanced by the novelty of
One of the sentinels was a taciturn, morose-looking, but sober and honest Indian, named Daniel; the other was a noted character of Ega, a little wiry Mameluco, named Carepira (Fish-hawk)-- known for his waggery, propensity for strong drink, and indebtedness to Ega traders. Both were intrepid canoemen and huntsmen, and both perfectly at home anywhere in these fearful wastes of forest and water. Carepira had his son with him-- a quiet little lad of about nine years of age. These men in a few minutes constructed a small shed with four upright poles and leaves of the arrow-grass, under which Cardozo and I slung our hammocks. We did not go to sleep, however, until after midnight-- for when supper was over, we lay about on the sand with a flask of rum in our midst and whiled away the still hours in listening to Carepira's stories.
I rose from my hammock by daylight, shivering with cold; a praia, on account of the great radiation of heat in the night from the sand, being towards the dawn the coldest place that can be found in this climate. Cardozo and the men were already up watching the turtles. The sentinels had erected for this purpose a stage about fifty feet high, on a tall tree near their station, the ascent to which was by a roughly-made ladder of woody lianas. They are enabled, by observing the turtles from this watchtower, to ascertain the date of successive deposits of eggs, and thus guide the commandante in fixing the time for the general invitation to the Ega people. The turtles lay their eggs by night, leaving the water when nothing disturbs them, in vast crowds, and crawling to the central and highest part of the praia. These places are, of course, the last to go under water when, in unusually wet seasons, the river rises before the eggs are hatched by the heat of the sand. One could almost believe from this that the animals used forethought in choosing a place; but it is simply one of those many instances in animals where unconscious habit has the same result as conscious prevision. The hours between midnight and dawn are the busiest. The turtles excavate with their broad, webbed paws, deep holes in the fine sand-- the first corner, in each case, making a pit about three feet deep, laying its eggs (about 120 in number) and covering them with sand; the next making its deposit at the top of that of its predecessor, and so on until every pit is full. The whole body of turtles frequenting a praia does not finish laying in less than fourteen or fifteen days, even when there is no interruption. When all have done, the area (called by the Brazilians taboleiro) over which they have excavated is distinguishable from the rest of the praia only by signs of the sand having been a little disturbed.
On rising, I went to join my friends. Few recollections of my Amazonian rambles are more vivid and agreeable than that of my walk over the white sea of sand on this cool morning. The sky was cloudless; the just-risen sun was hidden behind the dark mass of woods on Shimuni, but the long line of forest to the west, on Baria, with its plumy decorations of palms, was lighted up with his yellow, horizontal rays. A faint chorus of singing birds reached the ears from across the water, and flocks of gulls and plovers were drying plaintively over the swelling banks of the praia, where their eggs lay in nests made in little hollows of the sand. Tracks of stray turtles were visible on the smooth white surface of the praia. The animals which thus wander from the main body are lawful prizes of the sentinels; they had caught in this way two before sunrise, one of which we had for dinner. In my walk I disturbed several pairs of the chocolate and drab- coloured wild-goose (Anser jubatus) which set off to run along the edge of the water. The enjoyment one feels in rambling over these free, open spaces, is no doubt enhanced by the novelty of