34 FISHES OF WESTERN SOUTH AMERICA 
A wide-spread story has survived in northern Peru and Ecuador that the 
voleanoes Caraguayrazo and Imbabura once housed underground reservoirs and 
streams inhabited by fishes. About 1700, during eruptions, it was generally 
believed that these waters were spewed up mingled with volcanic mud and steam, 
and the fishes rained upon the surrounding slopes for miles about. The story was 
accepted by so good a man of science as James Orton (1875, 132, 143), and not 
definitely denied by Edward Whymper (1891), although a much more logical 
explanation of the occurrence is that the fishes were inhabiting the crannies of 
surface streams, and were killed by the mud and ash of the eruption. Paez (page 
420) knew of the episode and passed it on without raising doubts; but then he also 
transmits as true the story of his father’s having seen a rain of fishes (bocachica) 
which he had seen in youth. I found persons in northern and central Peru who 
knew of blind fishes living in the caves. This may be true, and the tradition may 
have no connection with the fishes of the voleanoes. 
Paez gives us a fish-tale which is one of the best emanating from the continent, 
partly for its brushing elbows with history as well as a true light on natural history. 
Simon Bolivar, the great Liberator, was taking a brief pasear in a canoe with a 
friend, idling along in a holiday mood. The friend slyly splashed the great man 
with his paddle. ‘‘Damn it, Companero, let us pull back. Even the fish are 
hostile in this country.”’ 
Medina (Lee trans., 1934, 189) may be credited with the following narrative, 
which unfortunately loses effect in the absence of the background of heroic ad- 
venture of the first discovery of the Amazon, out of which it must be lifted. Padre 
Carbajal’s journal of Orellana’s pioneering crew names many witnesses. 
On the deck of the ship which they had constructed in the wilderness, Mexia, 
their first crossbowman, leveled his weapon to bring down a bird. A vital and 
necessary nut fell out of the firing mechanism of the crossbow, and overside into 
the river, putting the bow out of commission. Contreras meanwhile was fishing 
from the deck nearby. Casting his hook into the river he pulled in a fish of five 
spans length. This was passed to the cook, and when the latter dressed it for cook- 
ing, there was the missing nut in its belly. The last remaining crossbow was 
restored to usefulness. To be interpreted only as a special act of Providence, the 
episode once again revived the courage of the crew. 
