|Seitenumbruch|
Nocturnal Life of Animals.—A night on the
Apure.—Below the mission of Santa Barbara de Arichuna we passed
the night as usual, in the open air, on a sandy flat, on the banks of the
Apure, skirted by the impenetrable forest. We had some difficulty in
finding dry wood to kindle the fires with which it is here customary to
surround the bivouac, as a safeguard against the attacks of the jaguar.
The air was bland and soft, and the moon shone brightly. Several cro-
codiles approached the bank, and I have observed that fire attracts
these creatures as it does our crabs and many other aquatic animals.—
The oars of our boats were fixed upright in the ground to support our
hammocks. Deep stillness prevailed, only broken at intervals by the
blowing of the fresh-water dolphins. After eleven o’clock, such
a noise began in the contiguous forest, that for the remainder
of the night all sleep was impossible. The wild cries of animals rung
through the woods. Among the many voices which resounded toge-
ther the Indians could only recognise those which, after short pauses,
were heard singly. There was the monotonous plaintive cry of the
aluates (howling monkeys), the whining, flute-like notes of the small
sapajous, the grunting murmur of the striped nocturnal ape (Nyctipithe-
cus trivirgatus, which I was the first to describe), the fitful roar of the
great tiger, the cuguar or maneless American lion, the peccary, the
sloth, and a host of parrots, perraquas (Ortalides), and other pheasant-
like birds. Whenever the tigers approached the edge of the forest, our
dog, who before had barked incessantly, came howling to seek protec-
tion under the hammocks. Sometimes the cry of the tiger resounded
from the branches of a tree, and was then always accompanied by the
plaintive piping tones of the apes, who were endeavouring to escape
from the unwonted pursuit. If one asks the Indians why such a conti-
nuous noise is heard on certain nights, they answer, with a smile, that
“the animals are rejoicing in the beautiful moonlight, and celebrating
the return of the full moon.” To me, the scene appears rather to be
owing to an accidental, long-continued, and gradually increasing con-
flict among the animals. Thus, for instance, the jaguar will pursue the
peccaries and the tapirs, which, densely crowded together, burst
through the barrier of tree-like shrubs which opposes their flight.—
Terrified at the confusion, the monkeys on the tops of the trees join
their cries with those of the larger animals. This arouses the tribes of
birds who build their nests in communities, and suddenly the whole
animal world is in a state of commotion. Further experience taught
us that it was by no means always the festival of moonlight that dis-
turbed the stillness of the forest, for we observed that the voices were
loudest during violent storms of rain, or when the thunder echoed and
the lightning flashed through the depths of the woods. The good natured
Franciscan monk, who (notwithstanding the fever from which he had
been suffering for many months) accompanied us through the cataracts
of Atures and Maypures to San Carlos, on the Rio Negro, and to the
Brazilian coast, used to say, when apprehensive of a storm at night,
“May Heaven grant a quiet night both to us and to the wild beasts of
the forest!”—Humboldt’s Views of Nature.