The Hunters' Feast: Conversations Around the Camp Fire

Thompson began his narrative as follows: – “When Pizarro and his Spaniards first climbed the Peruvian Andes, they were astonished at seeing a new and singular species of quadrupeds, the camel-sheep, so called from their resemblance to these two kinds of animals. They saw the ‘llama’ domesticated and trained to carrying burdens, and the ‘alpaca,’ a smaller species, reared on account of its valuable fleece.

“But there were still two other species of these odd animals only observed in a wild state, and in the more desolate and uninhabited parts of the Cordilleras. These were the ‘guanaco’ and ‘vicuña.’

“Up to a very late period the guanaco was believed to be the llama in its wild state, and by some the llama run wild. This, however, is not the case. The four species, llama, alpaca, guanaco, and vicuña as quite distinct from each other, and although the guanaco can be tamed and taught to carry burdens, its labour is not of sufficient value to render this worth while. The alpaca is never used as a beast of burden. Its fleece is the consideration for which it is domesticated and reared, and its wool is much finer and more valuable than that of the llama.

“The guanaco is, perhaps, the least prized of the four, as its fleece is of indifferent quality, and its flesh is not esteemed. The vicuña, on the contrary, yields a wool which is eagerly sought after, and which in the Andes towns will sell for at least five times its weight in alpaca wool. Ponchos woven out of it are deemed the finest made, and command the fabulous price of 20 pounds or 30 pounds sterling. A rich proprietor in the cordilleras is often seen with such a poncho, and the quality of the garment, the length of time it will turn rain, etcetera, are favourite subjects of conversation with the wearers of them. Of course everybody in those parts possesses one, as everybody in England or the United States must have a great coat; but the ponchos of the poorer classes of Peruvians – the Indian labourers, shepherds, and miners – are usually manufactured out of the coarse wool of the llama. Only the ‘ricos’ can afford the beautiful fabric of the vicuña’s fleece.

“The wool of the vicuña being so much in demand, it will be easily conceived that hunting the animal is a profitable pursuit; and so it is. In many parts of the Andes there are regular vicuña hunters, while, in other places, whole tribes of Peruvian Indians spend a part of every year in the chase of this animal and the guanaco. When we go farther south, in the direction of Patagonia, we find other tribes who subsist principally upon the guanaco, the vicuña, and the rhea or South-American ostrich.

“Hunting the vicuña is by no means an easy calling. The hunter must betake himself to the highest and coldest regions of the Andes – far from civilised life, and far from its comforts. He has to encamp in the open air, and sleep in a cave or a rude hut, built by his own hands. He has to endure a climate as severe as a Lapland winter, often in places where not a stick of wood can be procured, and where he is compelled to cook his meals with the dry ordure of wild cattle.

“If not successful in the chase he is brought to the verge of starvation, and must have recourse to roots and berries – a few species of which, such as the tuberous root ‘maca,’ are found growing in these elevated regions. He is exposed, moreover, to the perils of the precipice, the creaking ‘soga’ bridge, the slippery path, and the hoarse rushing torrent – and these among the rugged Cordilleras of the Andes are no mean dangers. A life of toil, exposure, and peril is that of the vicuña hunter.

“During my travels in Peru I had resolved to enjoy the sport of hunting the vicuña. For this purpose I set out from one of the towns of the Lower Sierra, and climbed up the high region known as the ‘Puna,’ or sometimes as the ‘Despoblado’ (the uninhabited region).

“I reached at length the edge of a plain to which I had mounted by many a weary path – up many a dark ravine. I was twelve or fourteen thousand feet above sea level, and although I had just parted from the land of the palm-tree and the orange, I was now in a region cold and sterile. Mountains were before and around me – some bleak and dark, others shining under a robe of snow, and still others of that greyish hue as if snow had freshly fallen upon them, but not enough to cover their stony surface. The plain before me was several miles in circumference. It was only part of a system of similar levels separated from each other by spurs of the mountains. By crossing a ridge another comes in view, a deep cleft leads you into a third, and so on.

“These table plains are too cold for the agriculturist. Only the cereal barley will grow there, and some of those hardy roots – the natives of an arctic zone. But they are covered with a sward of grass – the ‘ycha’ grass, the favourite food of the llamas – and this renders them serviceable to man. Herds of half-wild cattle may be seen, tended by their wilder-looking shepherds. Flocks of alpacas, female llamas with their young, and long-tailed Peruvian sheep, stray over them, and to some extent relieve their cheerless aspect. The giant vulture – the condor, wheels above all, or perches on the jutting rock. Here and there, in some sheltered nook, may be seen the dark mud hut of the ‘vaquero’ (cattle herd), or the man himself, with his troop of savage curs following at his heels, and this is all the sign of habitation or inhabitant to be met with for hundreds of miles. This bleak land, up among the mountain tops of the Andes, as I have already said, is called the ‘Puna.’

“The Puna is the favourite haunt of the vicuña, and, of course, the home of the vicuña hunter. I had directions to find one of these hunters, and an introduction to him when found, and after spending the night at a shepherd’s hut, I proceeded next morning in search of him – some ten miles farther into the mountains.

“I arrived at the house, or rather hovel, at an early hour. Notwithstanding, my host had been abroad, and was just returned with full hands, having a large bundle of dead animals in each. They were chinchillas and viscachas, which he had taken out of his snares set overnight. He said that most of them had been freshly caught, as their favourite time of coming out of their dens to feed is just before daybreak.

“These two kinds of animals, which in many respects resemble our rabbits, also resemble each other in habits. They make their nests in crevices of the rocks, to which they retreat, when pursued, as rabbits to their burrows. Of course, they are snared in a very similar manner – by setting the snares upon, their tracks, and at the entrances to their holes. One difference I noted. The Peruvian hunter used snares made of twisted horse-hair, instead of the spring wire employed by our gamekeepers and poachers. The chinchilla is a much more beautiful creature than the viscacha, and is a better-known animal, its soft and beautifully-marbled fur being an article of fashionable wear in the cities of Europe.

“As I approached his hut, the hunter had just arrived with the night’s produce of his snares, and was hanging them up to the side of the building, skinning them one by one. Not less than half a score of small, foxy-looking dogs were around him – true native dogs of the country.

“Of the disposition of these creatures I was soon made aware. No sooner had they espied me, than with angry yelps the whole pack ran forward to meet me, and came barking and grinning close around the feet of my horse. Several of them sprang upward at my legs, and would, no doubt, have bitten them, had I not suddenly raised my feet up to the withers, and for some time held them in that position. I have no hesitation in saying that had I been afoot, I should have been badly torn by the curs; nor do I hesitate to say, that of all the dogs in the known world, these Peruvian mountain dogs are the most vicious and spiteful. They will bite even the friends of their own masters, and very often their masters themselves have to use the stick to keep them in subjection. I believe the dogs found among many tribes of your North-American Indians have a very similar disposition, though by no means to compare in fierceness and savage nature with their cousins of the cold Puna.

“The masters of these dogs are generally Indians, and it is a strange fact, that they are much more spiteful towards the whites than Indians. It is difficult for a white man to get on friendly terms with them.

“After a good deal of kicking and cuffing, my host succeeded in making his kennel understand that I had not come there to be eaten up. I then alighted from my horse, and walked (I should say crawled) inside the hut.

“This was, as I have already stated, a mere hovel. A circular wall of mud and stone, about five feet high, supported a set of poles that served as rafters. These poles were the flower stalks of the great American aloe, or maguey-plant – the only thing resembling wood that grew near. Over these was laid a thick layer of Puna grass, which was tied with strong ropes of the same material, to keep it from flying off when the wind blew violently, which it there often does. A few blocks of stone in the middle of the floor constituted the fireplace, and the smoke got out the best way it could through a hole in the roof.

“The owner of this mansion was a true Indian, belonging to one of those tribes of the mountains that could not be said ever to have been conquered by the Spaniards. Living in remote districts, many of these people never submitted to the repartimientos, yet a sort of religious conquest was made of some of them by the missionaries, thus bringing them under the title of ‘Indios mansos’ (tame Indians), in contradistinction to the ‘Indios bravos,’ or savage tribes, who remain unconquered and independent to this day.

“As already stated, I had come by appointment to share the day’s hunt. I was invited to partake of breakfast. My host, being a bachelor, was his own cook, and some parched maize and ‘macas,’ with a roasted chinchilla, furnished the repast.

“Fortunately, I carried with me a flask of Catalan brandy; and this, with a cup of water from the icy mountain spring, rendered our meal more palatable I was not without some dry tobacco, and a husk to roll it in, so that we enjoyed our cigar; but what our hunter enjoyed still more was a ‘coceada,’ for he was a regular chewer of ‘coca.’ He carried his pouch of chinchilla skin filled with the dried leaves of the coca plant, and around his neck was suspended the gourd bottle, filled with burnt lime and ashes of the root of the ‘molle’ tree.

“All things arranged, we started forth. It was to be a ‘still’ hunt, and we went afoot, leaving our horses safely tied by the hut. The Indian took with him only one of his dogs – a faithful and trusty one, on which, he could rely.

“We skirted the plain, and struck into a defile in the mountains. It led upwards, among rocky boulders. A cold stream gurgled in its bottom, now and then leaping over low falls, and churned into foam. At times the path was a giddy one, leading along narrow ledges, rendered more perilous by the frozen snow, that lay to the depth of several inches. Our object was to reach the level of a plain still higher, where my companion assured me we should be likely to happen upon a herd of vicuñas.

“As we climbed among the rocks, my eye was attracted by a moving object, higher up. On looking more attentively, several animals were seen, of large size, and reddish-brown colour. I took them at first for deer, as I was thinking of that animal. I saw my mistake in a moment. They were not deer, but creatures quite as nimble. They were bounding from rock to rock, and running along the narrow ledges with the agility of the chamois. These must be the vicuñas, thought I.

“‘No,’ said my companion; ‘guanacos – nothing more.’

“I was anxious to have a shot at them.

“‘Better leave them now,’ suggested the hunter; ‘the report would frighten the vicuñas, if they be in the plain – it is near. I know these guanacos. I know where they will retreat to – a defile close by – we can have a chance at them on our return.’

“I forbore firing, though I certainly deemed the guanacos within shot, but the hunter was thinking of the more precious skin of the vicuñas, and we passed on. I saw the guanacos run for a dark-looking cleft between two mountain spurs.

“‘We shall find them in there,’ muttered my companion, ‘that is their haunt.’

“Noble game are these guanacos – large fine animals – noble game as the red deer himself. They differ much from the vicuñas. They herd only in small numbers, from six to ten or a dozen: while as many as four times this number of vicuñas may be seen together. There are essential points of difference in the habits of the two species. The guanacos are dwellers among the rocks, and are most at home when bounding from cliff to cliff, and ledge to ledge. They make but a poor run upon the level grassy plain, and their singular contorted hoofs seem to be adapted for their favourite haunts. The vicuñas, on the contrary, prefer the smooth turf of the table plains, over which they dart with the swiftness of the deer. Both are of the same family of quadrupeds, but with this very essential difference – the one is a dweller of the level plain, the other of the rocky declivity; and nature has adapted each to its respective habitat.”

Here the narrator was interrupted by the hunter-naturalist, who stated that he had observed this curious fact in relation to other animals of a very different genus, and belonging to the fauna of North America. “The animals I speak of,” said he, “are indigenous to the region of the Rocky Mountains, and well-known to our trapper friends here. They are the big horn (Ovis montana) and the prong-horned antelope (A. furcifer). The big horn is usually denominated a sheep, though it possesses far more of the characteristics of the deer and antelope families. Like the chamois, it is a dweller among the rocky cliffs and declivities, and only there does it feel at home, and in the full enjoyment of its faculties for security. Place it upon a level plain, and you deprive it of confidence, and render its capture comparatively easy. At the base of these very cliffs on which the Ovis montana disports itself, roams the prong-horn, not very dissimilar either in form, colour, or habits; and yet this creature, trusting to its heels for safety, feels at home and secure only on the wide open plain where it can see the horizon around it! Such is the difference in the mode of life of two species of animals almost cogenerie, and I am not surprised to hear you state that a somewhat like difference exists between the guanaco and vicuña.”

The hunter-naturalist was again silent, and the narrator continued.

“A few more strides up the mountain pass brought us to the edge of the plain, where we expected to see the vicuñas. We were not disappointed. A herd was feeding upon it, though at a good distance off. A beautiful sight they were, quite equalling in grace and stateliness the lordly deer. In fact, they might have passed for the latter to an unpractised eye, particularly at that season when deer are ‘in the red.’ Indeed the vicuña is more deer-like than any other animal except the antelope – much more so than its congeners the llama, alpaca, or guanaco. Its form is slender, and its gait light and agile, while the long tapering neck and head add to the resemblance. The colour, however, is peculiarly its own, and any one accustomed to seeing the vicuña can distinguish the orange-red of its silky coat at a glance, and at a great distance. So peculiar is it, that in Peru the ‘Colour de vicuña’ (vicuña colour) has become a specific name.

“My companion at once pronounced the animals before us a herd of vicuñas. There were about twenty in all, and all except one were quietly feeding on the grassy plain. This one stood apart, his long neck raised high in air, and his head occasionally turning from side to side, as though he was keeping watch for the rest. Such was in fact the duty he was performing; he was the leader of the herd – the patriarch, husband and father of the flock. All the others were ewes or young ones. So affirmed my companion.

“The vicuña is polygamous – fights for his harem with desperate fierceness, watches over its number while they feed or sleep, chooses the ground for browsing and rest – defends them against enemies – heads them in the advance, and covers their retreat with his own ‘person’ – such is the domestic economy of the vicuña.

“‘Now, señor,’ said the hunter, eyeing the herd, ‘if I could only kill him (he pointed to the leader) I would have no trouble with the rest. I should get every one of them.’

“‘How?’ I inquired.

“‘Oh! – they would! – ha! The very thing I wished for!’

“‘What?’

“‘They are heading towards yonder rocks.’ He pointed to a clump of rocky boulders that lay isolated near one side of the plain – ‘let us get there, comrade —vamos!’

“We stole cautiously round the edge of the mountain until the rocks lay between us and the game; and then crouched forward and took our position among them. We lay behind a jagged boulder, whose seamed outline looked as if it had been designed for loop-hole firing. It was just the cover we wanted.

“We peeped cautiously through the cracks of the rock. Already the vicuñas were near, almost within range of our pieces. I held in my hands a double-barrel, loaded in both barrels with large-sized buck-shot; my companion’s weapon was a long Spanish rifle.

“I received his instructions in a whisper. I was not to shoot until he had fired. Both were to aim at the leader. About this he was particular, and I promised obedience.

“The unconscious herd drew near. The leader, with the long white silky hair hanging from his breast, was in the advance, and upon him the eyes of both of us were fixed. I could observe his glistening orbs, and his attitude of pride, as he turned at intervals to beckon his followers on.

“‘I hope he has got the worms,’ muttered my companion; ‘if he has, he’ll come to rub his hide upon the rocks.’

“Some such intention was no doubt guiding the vicuña, for at that moment it stretched forth its neck, and trotted a few paces towards us. It suddenly halted. The wind was in our favour, else we should have been scented long ago. But we were suspected. The creature halted, threw up its head, struck the ground with its hoof, and uttered a strange cry, somewhat resembling the whistling of a deer. The echo of that cry was the ring of my companion’s rifle, and I saw the vicuña leap up and fall dead upon the plain.

“I expected the others to break off in flight, and was about to fire at them though they were still at long range. My companion prevented me.

“‘Hold!’ he whispered, ‘you’ll have a better chance – see there! – now, if you like, Señor!’

“To my surprise, the herd, instead of attempting to escape, came trotting up to where the leader lay, and commenced running around at intervals, stooping over the body, and uttering plaintive cries.

“It was a touching sight, but the hunter is without pity for what he deems his lawful game. In an instant I had pulled both triggers, and both barrels had sent forth their united and deadly showers.

“Deadly indeed – when the smoke blew aside, nearly half of the herd were seen lying quiet or kicking on the plain.

“The rest remained as before! another ring of the long rifle, and another fell – another double detonation of the heavy deer-gun, and several came to the ground; and so continued the alternate fire of bullets and shot, until the whole herd were strewn dead and dying upon the ground!

“Our work was done – a great day’s work for my companion, who would realise nearly a hundred dollars for the produce of his day’s sport.

“This, however, he assured me was a very unusual piece of good luck. Often for days and even weeks, he would range the mountains without killing a single head – either vicuña or guanaco, and only twice before had he succeeded in thus making a battue of a whole herd. Once he had approached a flock of vicuñas disguised in the skin of a guanaco, and killed most of them before they thought of retreating.

“It was necessary for us to return to the hut for our horses in order to carry home the game, and this required several journeys to be made. To keep off the wolves and condors my companion made use of a very simple expedient, which I believe is often used in the North – among your prairie trappers here. Several bladders were taken from the vicuñas and inflated. They were then tied upon poles of maguey, and set upright over the carcasses, so as to dangle and dance about in the wind. Cunning as is the Andes wolf this ‘scare’ is sufficient to keep him off, as well as his ravenous associate, the condor.

“It was quite night when we reached the Indian hut with our last load. Both of us were wearied and hungry, but a fresh vicuña cutlet, washed down by the Catalan, and followed by a cigarette, made us forget our fatigues. My host was more than satisfied with his day’s work, and promised me a guanaco hunt for the morrow.”