Campirvg in South America 
By FRANCIS C. NICHOLAS, Ph.D. 
VI.—Turtles’ Eggs 
O UR night at the Rio Ancho promised to 
be fine, no clouds were in the sky, and 
to sleep in the open air on the beach 
is always delightful. We would not be hungry 
because the canoeman had abundant supplies of 
vegetables grown in the lands about the Rio 
Ancho, which are said to be the most beautiful 
as well as the most fertile on all the coast. 
\ egetables and fruits we had, all we might want, 
but meat was not so abundant, and we were too 
tired to go hunting; then mosquito time was 
not far off, they would not come on the beach 
for a while yet, but in the woods they would 
be active. 
‘Why not get turtles’ eggs?” Viejo asked. 
Does the doctor like them?” Lopez inquired. 
Just then I would have liked anything, and 
immediately an egg hunt was organized. We 
went to a sand bank where the river formerly 
had an outlet to the sea, a favorite place for 
turtles to lay their eggs. Here we went search¬ 
ing about and I soon learned to trace out the 
place where a turtle had made a nest. She 
always comes up the beach diagonally and re¬ 
turns at about the same angle in the opposite 
direction, and where these two lines meet is her 
nest. I urtle tracks may be all over the beach, 
but unless an angle is formed by these tracks 
there is no nest. This seems peculiar and it 
may be that one or another of the turtle’s flip¬ 
pers is stronger, causing it to proceed diagon¬ 
ally in its efforts to make headway on the sand, 
though if this were the case it would more prob¬ 
ably cause it to describe an arc rather than an 
angle. Some of-the natives claim that a turtle’s 
flippers are not equal, as evidenced by their 
tracks, but it would seem more probable that 
the diagonal track is simply to find an easy way 
up the sloping beach, and as it is easier to go 
up that way, and as going up is the first im¬ 
pression, the turtle may simply retain that iin- 
piession, and being in a hurry to reach the water 
after the process of laying her eggs, she simply 
returns as she came, but without waiting to 
turn directly back on her tracks, yet proceed¬ 
ing diagonally as before, leaving behind a con- 
venient marker by which her eggs may be found. 
Our search was not very successful. Several 
parties had been along that day, and usually 
ti avelers stop at the Rio Ancho expecting dur¬ 
ing the season to find a supply of turtles’ eggs. 
There were plenty of signs; the turtles had been 
out in numbers the night before, and during the 
coming night would certainly be out again, and 
in the morning plenty of eggs could be had, but 
then coffee would he sufficient, and as to carry¬ 
ing a load of turtles’ eggs over' the sand for our 
almuerzo, it was not to be thought of. 
Time after time we traced out the angle left 
by the turtle’s tracks, only to be disappointed, 
but Manuel, the little boy, found a nest, and 
at his call we all came running, I calling out 
not to disturb the nest till I had seen how it 
had been made. The turtle must have been a 
big one with more ambition than was usual, for 
it had gone much further than the others, and 
the nest the boy found was well up toward the 
line of bushes back of the beach. The place 
where the turtle had rested seemed to be indi¬ 
cated by an imprint on the sand, and there were 
some indications that a hole had been scooped 
out and filled in again, but the surface was not 
much disturbed, and but for the tell-tale tracks 
we would never have noticed the nest. 
To secure the eggs the sand was carefully re¬ 
moved and a little below the surface a quantity 
of them were found, round membrane-covered 
eggs, of velvety white which made them very 
beautiful. They were about an inch in diameter 
and somewhat resembled white rubber or cellu¬ 
loid balls, except that they were a very pure 
white. Manuel filled a sack with the eggs and 
we returned to our camp. There was no danger 
of breaking them and considerable force would 
have been required to smash one, though the 
membrane covering could be easily cut or torn. 
Arriving at our mosquito tents, a fire was 
made and the eggs were set to boil, and after 
about an hour of steady cooking were pro¬ 
nounced done. I have heard many people tell 
of delicious turtles’ eggs, but to my mind they 
are a decided failure. The albumen does not 
coagulate, but forms a ropy white clouded mass, 
and the yolks are a little rough as though they 
were gritty, but the grit would disappear as one 
bit into them, but always the first contact seemed 
unpleasant, and as first impressions go a long 
way, I never fancied turtles’ eggs. 
Our explorations along the beach occupied 
several days and we often had turtles’ eggs, and 
I never learned to like them, but when one is 
hungry almost anything goes. 
I here was not much excitement on this ex¬ 
ploration, just a plodding on while information 
was gathered ; but coming back we were caught 
by a series of rains and found the rivers at full 
flood. Unfortunately we were on a long stretch 
of deserted beach with a river before and a 
river behind us, cutting off the way to the settle¬ 
ments. We decided it would be best to go on 
because the Rio San Salvador, which was in 
front of us, might not be so deep, as it is one 
of the smaller rivers. When we reached it we 
saw a volume of dark water pouring out, some¬ 
thing over a hundred yards wide, cutting away 
the sand and looking treacherous enough. Lopez 
said he thought we could cross, but must not 
try to *swim, only keep on walking along the bot¬ 
tom if we had to, even if the water were much 
over our heads, because only an object floating 
or swimming on the surface would be attacked 
by the crocodiles, sharks or barracudas. We 
hesitated. The black water looked ominous, as 
if it were an evil thing. To have one’s body 
torn to pieces would not be very nice, but dark 
clouds were hanging over the mountains, thunder 
was rumbling, it would be a wet night. We de¬ 
cided we would try it. The men carried all the 
clothes and our baggage, leaving me free to 
manage for myself, but advised me to keep a 
big stone on my head to help keep my feet on 
the bottom. Stripped, we were ready for the 
water, Lopez leading, the younger man follow- 
ing, Viejo carrying Manuel on his shoulders. 
The current took the sand from under our feet 
and I was glad to have a stone on my head for 
ballast. Two-thirds across the stream we got, 
and then plump down we went, and the bottom 
seemed very far away. I tried to follow direc¬ 
tions, but failed, and getting my mouth and 
nose full of water, dropped the big stone and 
beat it literally for the other shore, beating and 
splashing the water as I went. I swam fast, 
too, and with a breath of relief got out on the 
other bank where I stood in wonder watching 
my companions. 
Steadily they came forward walking under the 
water, at every few steps jumping up for a 
breath of air, and carrying our clothes well 
above the surface. Manuel was sitting on Viejo’s 
shoulders, and evidently that young giant was 
struggling under the load, but Manuel gave no 
indications of fear; he was safe and Viejo would 
not throw him into the water, for that might 
be to throw him to the sharks and crocodiles. 
On the men came, the water at times reaching 
above their elbows, and almost up to Manuel’s 
armpits as he sat on Viejo’s shoulders. It was 
a struggle and a few steps further on Manuel, 
seeing the shallow water not far away, jumped 
forward, and with one or two vigorous strokes 
was safe. The next instant all the men’s heads 
appeared above the water and they struggled up 
out of the river and dropped down on the sand, 
men and burdens all together, where they rested. 
It had been a remarkable exhibition of strength, 
and not one thing was wet; all our effects, 
clothes, instruments and provisions had been 
