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THE AMERICAN MUSEUM JOURNAL 



to touch these fish while they are alive, 

 as they snap and bite viciously. There- 

 fore, before attempting to remove the 

 hook, Mrs. Cherrie would take the pre- 

 caution to kill the fish with her hunting 

 knife. These fish vary in weight from 

 one quarter of a pound to five or six 

 pounds, the average weight perhaps 

 being three quarters of a pound. 



When collecting waterfowl in ponds 

 adjacent to the river, I have often 

 waded out up to my waist and shot the 

 birds. Sometimes a wounded bird float- 

 ing about would attract the crocodiles 

 by its cries of distress, and four or five 

 would start for the bird, which I some- 

 times had difficulty in rescuing. The 

 only thing I could do was to fire at the 

 crocodiles one after another; one shot 

 was usually sufficient to discourage 

 them. They are extremely abundant in 

 that region, particularly along the trib- 

 utaries of the river and the small, slug- 

 gish streams, where they congregate by 

 thousands on the mud banks. It is rare 

 to see crocodiles on a sandy or gravelly 

 beach. During the flood season com- 

 paratively few are seen, but along the 

 smaller streams in midsummer they 

 are found in great numbers. When the 

 waters recede at the beginning of the 

 dry season, one species of small alli- 

 gator, called jacare, measuring in 

 length about four or five feet, buries 

 itself in the mud. It remains in a 

 semitorpid condition throughout the 

 summer months, during which the 

 swamps are covered with a thick crust 

 of baked earth. On breaking through 

 this dried marsh I have found the small 

 animals enclosed within mud walls, but 

 with sufficient room left to turn about. 

 While in this hibernating state they 

 nevertheless were quite lively and, upon 

 being aroused, were decidedly ugly, 

 snapping viciously whenever touched. 



A very terrifying and awe-inspiring 

 sound at night is the roar of the ja- 

 guar, which can be compared only with 

 that of a lion or possibly the tiger. The 

 air seems to vibrate with the blood- 



curdling noise. The jaguar is common 

 along the Orinoco, especially in the vi- 

 cinity of cattle ranches where it preys 

 upon the stock; a full-grown animal 

 often will attack and pull down an ox. 

 At one of our camps on the upper Ori- 

 noco I had a couple of big mules. About 

 daybreak one morning while I was stir- 

 ring up the ashes preparatory to start- 

 ing breakfast, I heard a terrific crash- 

 ing of the bushes and a moment later 

 one of the mules burst into camp. He 

 was streaming with blood and had long 

 scratches over the flanks and across the 

 face and nostrils. A jaguar had sprang 

 upon him, but he had been able to 

 shake the animal loose and outrun him 

 into the safe shelter of camp. I imme- 

 diately took my gun and went to the 

 spot where the struggle had taken place, 

 but the jaguar had disappeared. There- 

 after, I can assure you, the mule never 

 strayed more than a hundred feet away 

 from camp. 



We had several similar experiences 

 without actually encountering the ani- 

 mal itself, which rarely attacks man 

 unless it is wounded or cornered. On 

 one of these occasions we were camped 

 at a little native village known as Las 

 Bonitas. This village is situated on a 

 small knoll quite close to the river, the 

 country about being more or less open 

 savannah thinly sprinkled with clumps 

 of trees. When I left camp every morn- 

 ing, it was Mrs. Cherrie's custom to 

 watch me until I was out of sight. One 

 day as usual she, together with several 

 native women, was looking after me. I 

 went down toward the river, following 

 a strip of brush close to the water's 

 edge, and finally turned into a narrow 

 path leading to the bank. At this 

 point those who were watching saw a 

 jaguar emerge from the thicket, turn, 

 and walk along behind me. An alarm 

 was given and men immediately started 

 out, but on reaching the river they 

 could find no trace of either me or the 

 jaguar. All unsuspecting of danger, I 

 returned to camp a few hours later, and 



