The Eggs Of This Bird Are Esteemed A
Great Delicacy.
September 16th.
- To the seventh posta at the foot of the
Sierra Tapalguen. The country was quite level, with a
coarse herbage and a soft peaty soil. The hovel was here
remarkably neat, the posts and rafters being made of about
a dozen dry thistle-stalks bound together with thongs of
hide; and by the support of these Ionic-like columns, the
roof and sides were thatched with reeds. We were here told
a fact, which I would not have credited, if I had not had
partly ocular proof of it; namely, that, during the previous
night hail as large as small apples, and extremely hard, had
fallen with such violence, as to kill the greater number of the
wild animals. One of the men had already found thirteen
deer (Cervus campestris) lying dead, and I saw their _fresh_
hides; another of the party, a few minutes after my arrival
brought in seven more. Now I well know, that one man
without dogs could hardly have killed seven deer in a week.
The men believed they had seen about fifteen ostriches (part
of one of which we had for dinner); and they said that
several were running about evidently blind in one eye.
Numbers of smaller birds, as ducks, hawks, and partridges,
were killed. I saw one of the latter with a black mark on
its back, as if it had been struck with a paving-stone. A
fence of thistle-stalks round the hovel was nearly broken
down, and my informer, putting his head out to see what was
the matter, received a severe cut, and now wore a bandage.
The storm was said to have been of limited extent:
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