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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 safe-
guard against the attacks of the jaguar. The air was
bland and soft, and the moon shone brightly. Several
crocodiles 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 con-
tiguous forest, that for the remainder of the night all
sleep was impossible. The wild cries of animals rang
through the woods. Among the many voices which
resounded together 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 (Nyctipithecus 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 be-
fore had barked incessantly, came howling to seek pro-
tection under the hammocks. Sometimes the cry of a
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 continuous 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 appeared rather
to be owing to an accidental, long-continued, and
gradually-increasing conflict 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. Fur-
ther experience taught us that it was by no means
always the festival of moonlight that disturbed 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 Fran-
ciscan monk who (notwithstanding the fever from
which he had been suffering for many months) accom-
panied us through the cataracts of Atures and May-
pures 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.