Among hundreds I never saw one with any black or
white on it.
I believe that before Don Anastacio's time a few of these wild pigs
had been kept as a curiosity at the estancia, and that when he came
into possession he allowed them to increase and roam in herds all over
the place, doing much harm by rooting up many acres of the best
grazing land in their search after grubs, earthworms, mole-crickets,
and blind snakes, along with certain roots and bulbs which they liked.
This was their only provender when there happened to be no carcasses
of cows, horses, or sheep for them to feed on in company with the dogs
and carrion hawks. He would not allow his pigs to be killed, but
probably his poor relations and pensioners were out occasionally by
night to stick a pig when beef and mutton were wanting. I never tasted
or wanted to taste their flesh. The gaucho is inordinately fond of the
two gamiest-flavoured animals in the pampas--the ostrich or rhea and
the hairy armadillo. These I could eat and enjoy eating, although I
was often told by English friends that they were too strong for their
stomachs; but the very thought of this wild pig-flesh produced a
sensation of disgust.
One day when I was about eight years old I was riding home at a lonely
spot three or four miles out, going at a fast gallop by a narrow path
through a dense growth of giant thistles seven or eight feet high,
when all at once I saw a few yards before me a big round heap of
thistle plants, which had been plucked up entire and built into a
shelter from the hot sun about four feet high.
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