Argentine Delta Country 



Huge Fruit Plantations, Stream!! 

 Interest to Trip 



(No. 24 of a Series.) 



By W. H, SHIPPEN, JR., 

 Star Staff Correspondent. 



ABOARD THE CERES. — All day, 

 m guests of the Argentine Govern- 

 ment, we have been cruising canals 

 and rivers of the great Delta del 

 Parana, that rich 

 borderland of 

 climates where 

 the palm mingles 

 freely with the 

 pine. 



Our tall mast, 

 from the tip of 

 which flows the 

 sky blue and 

 white official 

 flag, with a yel- 

 low sun in the 

 center, brushes 

 aside the bright 

 autumn foilage 

 of sycamores; 

 tnen our launch w. h. shippen, Jr. 

 runs between green banks grown 

 with palms and citrus trees weight- 

 ed with ripening fruit. 



The delta and its network of riv- 

 ers, canals and irrigation ditches, 

 lies between the Parana and Uru- 

 guay Rivers above their confluence 

 in the Plata. The great rivers, roll- 

 ing down from the tropics in the 

 north, bear floating islands of exotic 

 vegetation, along with innumerable 

 seeds and plant spores. Much vege- 

 tation from the hot countries has 

 adapted itself to a colder climate. 



We landed at many quintas or 

 fruit plantations, to stroll through 

 tropical and sub-tropical groves in 

 our overcoats. The fall wind rat- 

 tled the bare branches of Lombardy 

 poplars and planted borders of syca- 

 mores were turning yellow and red. 



Traffic Over Waterways. 



All traffic of the delta moves over 

 the waterways. Our launch ran by 

 scores of river craft carrying fruit, 

 cordwood, telephone poles and fence 

 posts to B. A. markets. Vast areas 

 of the delta are planted in Lom- 

 bardy poplars. Their avenues 

 stretch away in transit lines to the 

 horizon. The poplars grow straight 

 and fast in the rich loam. Their 

 wood is put to all manner of uses 

 in a country almost barren of com- 

 mercial timber. 



The cultivation of the great fruit 

 plantations is brought to a high de- 

 gree of perfection. Citrus fruit, 

 peaches and sweet potatoes are 

 processed in plantation canning fac- 

 tories. This morning we rode in a 

 buggy behind a team of fine bays, 

 mile after mile across a plantation 

 whose seemingly endless irrigation 

 ditches were bordered with tall pop- 

 lars and cedars. Pond lilies floated 

 on the water in the ditches and 

 every tenant cottage was bright with 

 fall flowers. 



A gaucho in flowing breeches, wide 

 hat, half boots and silver accessories 

 superintended the hitching of our 

 horses, but left the driving to an in- ! 

 ferior. He strode about splendid 

 stables, hung with silver trappings, 

 with the rolling, bow-legged gait of 

 the Western cow hand. He was 

 more aloof, however, and seemed 

 possessed of a fierce pride. 



A Streamlined Gaucho. 



"Just a streamlined gaucho," said 

 one of four National University na- 

 ture students accompanying Us on 

 the Ceres. "The real gaucho, he ex- 

 ists no more—not even in Holly- 

 wood!" The student, however, spoke 

 in English and well out of the horse- 

 man's hearing. I was glad of that. 



The stables were decorated with 

 old Spanish tile and grillwork. The 

 saddles, boleros, bridles, neck bells 

 and other hand-wrought gaucho 

 trappings were museum pieces. 



We will sleep tonight aboard the 

 Ceres— a 60-foot luxury launch as- 

 signed to the Department of Agri- 

 culture. Our host on the boat is 

 Sehor Estaniclato Chiarelli, director 

 of the department of fruits and hor- 

 ticulture, who conducts us on in- 

 spection trips and presides over the 

 dining table in the little salon with 

 all the grace of a Chesterfield. 



The four college students aboard 

 io far have been unable to outdo the 

 older members of the party in the 

 consumption of Argentine steaks, 

 native vegetables and fruits; an 

 Argentine dish which might corre- 

 spond to a New England boiled din- 

 ner (puchero) , except there is more 



of it, and Argentine preserves and 

 cheeses. 



Studying Natural History. 



The students are studying natural 

 history— the plants, animals and in- 

 sects of their native land— under 

 the informal tutelage of Dr. Chia- 

 relli and Dr. William M. Mann, di- 

 rector of the National Zoological 

 Park in Washington, D. C. The 

 Washington scientist helps them 

 identify their collections. Students 

 and their elders hold informal, 

 round-table question and answer 

 sessions in Englansh and Spanish. 

 All four college boys are studying 

 English. All have asked me several 

 times— without • getting anything 

 very definite— how many students 

 in the United States are learning 

 Spanish. The answer seems of im- 

 portance to them. 



Dr. Mann is learning all he can 

 of Argentine, through travel and 

 talks with the residents, in the hope 

 of assembling a representative, if 

 small, collection of native birds and 

 animals for the Washington Zoo. 

 There are almost no animal deal- 

 ers here, and the collectors are at- 

 tached to public institutions or are 

 the owners of private estancias in- 

 terested in the conservation of wild 

 life. 



Tonight we talked late on deck 

 (I've learned a few words of Span- 

 ish) while a yellow moon rose over 

 the Parana de las Palm as and the 

 Southern Cross reached' its zenith. 

 The Latins sang their college songs, 

 their ton goes and national airs. 

 One of the college boys said: • 

 "They tell us— the Germans, the 

 Italians, the British— that we mu,< 

 beware of the North Americano 

 with their big Navy, their doll, 

 politics, yes? 



"But we four don't believe that 

 now . . . we think North Americanos 

 are very much like the Argentines, 

 yes?" 



To Chagrin of Correspondent 



Forced Into Argentine Foliage to Discard 

 Trousers and Stinging Insects 



Dr. William M. Mann, director 

 of the National Zoological Park, 

 is now in Argentina collecting 

 birds, reptiles and animals. 

 Among those accompanying him 

 is William H. Shippen, jr., fea- 

 ture writer of The Star staff, who 

 here presents the 25th of a series 

 of articles about Dr. Mann's 

 travels. 



By W. H. SHIPPEN, Jr., 



Star Staff Correspondent. 



ABOARD THE CERES. — Sure 

 enough, they were fire ants! 



I had read about them— how they 

 descend, like a shower of sparks, 

 upon unwary travelers who jostle 

 certain trees in 

 the tropics. 



But the storied 

 ants were big, 

 arboreal crea- 

 t u r e s. These 

 were minute, 

 and swarmed 

 about their bur- 

 r o w in the 

 ground. They 

 were my own 

 discovery. 



"Look what 

 I've found," I 

 called to Dr. 

 Mann. "Maybe 



they're a new w. h. shippen, jr. 

 species — please come and identify 

 them, doctor!" Dr. Mann, a world 

 authority on ants, who began col- 

 lecting them in the Solomon Islands 

 as a Harvard student on a scholar- 

 ship, strolled over — not too near, I 

 recalled later. 



"Just stand where you are, Wil- 

 liam," he said, "and presently you 

 will identify them for yourself." 



Presently I did. The ladies in the 

 party thought I was practicing the 

 tango — not too gracefully, with a 

 hop, skip and jump, instead of a 

 glide. I retired into some foliage of 

 a happy density and got out of my 

 trousers as rapidly as possible. They 

 were only little ants — "chicos," the 

 Buenos Aires college boys called 

 them — but what they lacked in size 

 they made up in numbers. Their 

 stings, fortunately, were more 

 alarming than harmful. 



After recovering my trousers and 

 my poise, I emerged from the foli- 

 age much wiser in practical ento- 

 mology. 



Stopped at Fur Farm. 



The launch Ceres, on which we 

 are cruising as guests of the Ar- 

 gentine Department of Agriculture, 

 had pulled in alongside a citrus and 

 nutria farm on the Delta del 

 Parana. 



The nutria is a big native rodent 

 which, crossed with a larger species 

 from the north, produces a choco- 

 late-colored fur once worn by such 

 fastidious dressers as Chinese man- 

 darins and war lords, and now prized 

 by ladies of fashion in Europe and 

 the United States. The nutria looks 

 i like a 50-pound rat with a flat, pen- 

 sive countenance and walrus 

 whiskers. 



The water rodents are bred in 

 pens which contain a canal. An 

 elaborate system of stud books is 

 kept to improve the stock and fur 

 quality. The nutrias are vegetarians, 

 but fierce fighters. Their long teeth 

 can chop through a riding boot in a 

 flash. The individual breeding pens 

 usually contain one male and four 

 or five sisters from the same litter, 

 because sisters never quarrel, or 

 chide each other's children, in the 

 best nutria families. They are death 

 on strangers, however. 



The coarse outer hair is removed 

 from the pelts and used in the man- 

 ufacture of felt hats. The inner fur, 

 almost a half-inch thick, is com- 

 parable to fine seal— dense, soft and 

 luxurious to the touch. (I had rather 

 touch a pelt than a nutria— perhaps 

 the fire ants have me intimidated.) 

 Floating School Buses. 



Back on the canal, as the launch 

 continued her cruise, we passed 

 many landings where children, m 

 their white school uniforms, waited 

 for a floating "bus" to take them to 

 their classrooms upon a Saturday. 



"The chicos will be tardy," re- 

 marked an Argentine . 



Apparently they were. We later 

 passed the "bus." A red-faced driver 

 was trying to start the outboard mo- ; 

 tor. As we swung around a bend he 

 was still trying. Yes, the "chicos 

 probably were late for school today- 

 very late. 



— T "none They "won't be late for ! 

 church m the y morning-a floating 

 church, complete with its tall 

 steSSe and a crucifix mounted on 

 hetorwTrd mast. . The ^hurf^hip 

 was named the Cristo Rey-or Km 

 rhrist Later we passed a wedding 

 party Their launch was a power 

 of flowers and the Argentines m at- 

 tendance were quite gay-probably 

 w m the wine of the land, which 

 flows freely on festive occasions 



The grocer-butcher in his motor 

 boat hung his meat deliveries on 

 trees beside the landing stages. 

 There are no roads or railways on 

 the delta, which is covered with riv- 

 ers, canals and irrigation ditches. 



The flower-grown huts of the pool 

 were made of reeds and clay, I 

 thatched with grass and mounted | 

 on stilts above the high- water line. 

 Each house had its outdoor bake- 

 oven of mud, its dogs, children and 

 chickens. „ . , . 



, Also a landing for its long Spanish 

 I bateau in a small canal cut through 

 j the thick, black loam and covered 

 1 by a thatched shed. 

 I Banks Lined With Trees. 



I The banks were lined with palms, 

 i pines, millions of tall Lombardy 

 poplars, citrus trees, eucalyptus, 

 sycamores, the native sauce, which 

 1 resembles our willows, and weeping 

 willows. * , 



A Spanish college student asked 

 j about the latter trees: 

 j "in the States what do you call 



those tree? The sobbing willow, 

 yes?" 



Geraniums, "the poor man's 

 flower," grew to great size, and 

 arbors were loaded with grapes. 

 Benteveo birds ("I see you well," 

 is what they are supposed to cry 

 in Spanish) swarmed in the groves, 

 their shrieks rising above the beat 

 of our Diesel engine. 



The four . students from the Na- 

 tional University at Buenos Aires, 

 who are accompanying us on the 

 Ceres, tried to teach us to sing 

 tangoes and their school songs— 

 a tough assignment. The timing 

 , was complicated and the words 

 ! elusive. They found the same diffi- 

 culty with our songs, with the 

 exception of "Ramblin' Wreck." 

 The rather profane and explosive 

 | nature of the chorus appealed to 

 ! them. It seemed odd to hear four 

 ! Argentine college boys banging out 

 that familiar chorus as our launch 

 slid between the strange banks of 

 the Bara Grande: 



"I'm a rambling wreck from 

 Georgia Tech, and a hell of an 

 engineer!" 



"Dose words," one of them said, 

 "they sound magnifico ! What d^ 

 they mean, pies?" 



I had a hard time explaining! 



