Near the town of Orotava we came across great flocks of canaries. These birds, well known in Europe, were in general uniformly green; some had a yellowish tinge on their backs; their song was the same as that of the domesticated canary. It has been noted that those canaries captured in the island of Gran Canaria, and in the islet of Monte Clara, near Lanzarote, have a louder, more harmonious call. In every zone, among birds of the same species, each flock has its peculiar call. The yellow canaries are a variety now breeding in Europe; those we saw in cages had been bought at Cadiz and other Spanish ports. But the bird from the Canary Islands that has the most agreeable song is unknown in Europe. It is the capirote, which has never been tamed, so much does he love his freedom. I have enjoyed his sweet and melodious warbling in a garden in Orotava, but have never seen him close enough to judge what family he belongs to. As for the parrots supposedly seen during Captain Cook's stay at Tenerife, they never existed but in the narratives of some travelers who have copied from each other.

After three hours' walking we reached a small plain called La Rambleta at the far end of the malpaís; from its center rises the Piton or Sugar Loaf. From the Orotava side this mountain resembles those pyramids with steps found in Féjoun or Mexico. Here we found the air holes that locals call the Nostrils of the Peak (Narices del Pico). Hot watery vapors seep out at regular intervals from cracks in the rock, and the thermometer marked 43.2°C. I cannot, however, accept the daring hypothesis which states that the Nostrils of the Peak are vents of an immense apparatus of distillation whose lower part is situated below sea-level. Since we have been studying volcanoes with more care, and since innate love for all that is marvelous is less common in geological books, doubts have been expressed about these constant and direct links between sea water and volcanic fire. There is a far simpler explanation of this phenomenon. The peak is covered with snow part of the year; we found snow still around on the Rambleta plain. This led us to conclude that the Tenerife peak, like the Andes and Manila islands' volcanoes, are filled with filtered water. The watery vapors emitted by the Nostrils and cracks of the crater are those same waters heated.

In this area there are several species of peccaries, or pigs with lumbar glands, only two of which are known to naturalists in Europe. The Indians call the little peccary a chacharo. Reared in their houses they become tame like our sheep and goats. Another kind is called the apida, which is also domesticated and wanders in large herds. These animals announce themselves from a long way off because they break down all the shrubs in their way. During a botanical excursion Bonpland was warned by his Indian guides to hide behind a tree trunk as these cochinos, or puercos del monte, passed by. The flesh of the chacharo ii flabby and disagreeable, but the Indians hunt them nevertheless, with small lances tied to cords. We were told at Atures that jaguars dread being surrounded by herds of wild pigs and climb trees to save themselves. Is this a hunters' tale, or a fact?

The missionary from the Raudales looked after the preparations for our journey rather too well. He worried that there might not be enough Maco and Guahibo Indians on hand who knew the labyrinth of small canals and rapids that form the raudales and cataracts, so at night he put two Indians in the cepo, that is, they were tied to the ground and fastened together between two pieces of wood with a padlock. In the morning we were awoken by the shouts of a young Indian who was being brutally beaten with a whip of manatee skin. His name was Zerepe, an extremely intelligent Indian who later served us well, but at the time refused to travel with us. He had been born in the Atures mission; his father was from the Maco tribe and his mother from the Maypure; he had run off to the jungle (al monte) and lived with wild Indians for years. He had learned several languages, and the missionary used him as an interpreter. Not without difficulty did we obtain his pardon. 'Without severity, we were told, 'you would get nothing'.

I placed very active curare on the crural nerves of a frog without noticing any change, measuring the degree of its organs' irritability with an arc formed of heterogeneous metals. But these Galvanic experiments hardly worked on birds a few minutes after they had been shot with poison arrows. Curare works only when the poison acts on the vascular system. At Maypures, a colored man (a zambo, a cross between Indian and negro) was preparing one of those poison arrows that are shot in blowpipes, to kill small monkeys or birds for M. Bonpland. He was a carpenter of extraordinary strength. He stupidly rubbed the curare between slightly bleeding fingers and fell to the ground, dizzy for half an hour. Luckily it was a weak curare (destemplado), used for small animals, which may be revived later by placing muriate of soda in the wound. During our journey back from Esmeralda to Atures. I escaped from danger myself. The curare had attracted humidity and become liquid and spilled from a poorly closed jar on to our clothes. We forgot to check the inside of a sock filled with curare when washing our clothes. Just touching this sticky stuff with my hand I realized I should not pull on the poison sock. The danger was all the greater as my toes were bleeding from chigoe wounds.

The bamboo-lined road led us to the small village of San Fernando, located in a narrow plain, surrounded by steep calcareous cliffs. It was the first mission we visited in America. The houses, or rather shacks, of the Chaima Indians are scattered about, and are without vegetable gardens. The straight narrow streets cut each other at right angles. The thin irregular walls are made of clay and bound with lianas. The monotony of the houses, the serious and taciturn aspect of the inhabitants and the extreme cleanliness inside their homes reminded us of the establishments of the Moravian Brethren. (47) Each family cultivates the conuco de la comunidad, which is outside the village, as are their own individual vegetable plots. Adults of both sexes work there an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening. In the missions near the coast, the communal garden is nearly always planted with sugar cane or indigo and run by the missions. Their product, if the law is strictly followed, can be used only for the upkeep of the church and the purchase of whatever the priests may need. San Fernando's great square, in the center of the village, contains the church, the missionary's house and the modest building that goes pompously under the name of 'king's house' (casa del rey). This is the official hostel for travelers and, as we often confirmed, a real blessing in a land where the word 'inn' is unknown. These casas del rey can be found all over Spanish colonies, no doubt imitating the Peruvian tambos established by Manco Capac's laws. (48)