"The real wild Indian is disappearing from his old haunts. Forty years ago he could be found in many of the creeks of the Demerara River where now only a few of his degenerated descendants exist. As a huntsman he must have a sort of game preserve, which is impossible where gangs of wood-cutters and balata-bleeders carry on their work. He still exists, however, in the far interior, living in much the same way as he did when America was discovered, except that he does not fight. The men are still expert hunters and fishermen, and the women as proficient in cultivating and preparing the staff of life, cassava-bread. Their old weapons, the bow and blow-pipe, are largely replaced by the gun, but the large fishes about the rapids are still shot in the old way."[15] The things of the natural world which meet the eye of the observant traveller are of extreme variety and interest here. "Nowhere in the world, perhaps, are such beautiful adaptations to natural conditions and such perfect interdependence. The trees bear nuts and fruits to feed monkeys, rodents, birds, bats and fishes, and because these are present in such numbers the cat family is also well represented. Again, every tree has flowers that require insect fertilization, consequently myriads of insects are here; these, in turn, are kept within bounds by ant-eaters, birds, monkeys, lizards, and those classes of insects which feed on them, such as mantids, wasps and robber flies. In the water the smaller fishes feed on fallen fruit; they provide sustenance to the larger species, which in turn become the prey of alligators and otters. On the ground, in the water, and up in the trees the struggle goes on by which the balance of life is kept even. Notwithstanding this universal war on every side, species hold their own and develop great capabilities according to their needs. Beautiful contrivances have been gained to suit the conditions under which they live, among them being protective coloration and the careful adjustment of means to the end, whether to catch and hold or to get away. The jaguar stalks the acourie so that not a twig is snapped or a leaf rustled, but the sharp rodent is always on the alert, ready to leave its feed of nuts the moment it recognizes the nearness of its foe. Under this pitch-dark canopy, through which no glimmer of moon and stars can penetrate, many a painful tragedy goes on every night. But the acourie still lives, in spite of its enemies, for, like its relation, the guinea-pig, it is very prolific. The Indian says that every animal has its tiger; he himself is one of these, and must move as silently or be content to go without meat."[16]