What splendid birds the Woodpeckers are—strong, active, full of vitality and enthusiasm over life. These were big fellows, black above, variegated on shoulders and head with white; thickly barred below and with a long crest of blazing scarlet. They spent much of their time near the bungalow, and when they drummed steadily their scarlet head-plumes seemed a living flaming haze.

Near the summit of the hill a tall Silverballi had been felled and sawed by hand into boards. This had made a small clearing like the one I visited yesterday. The trees were filled with many species of birds attracted by the abundant insect life, some of which I knew and made notes upon, while most were unknown to me. A group of tiny feathered beings was busy catching midges near the top of one of the highest trees, their sharp cheeps! coming faintly down to me. Hopeless of ever observing them at closer range, I secured one and found it to be a Buff-tailed Tyrantlet.107 This waif of the upper air was less than three and a half inches in length with rather unusual coloring, the fore part of the body gray, the back, wings, lower breast and tail rufous. Its claim to the Flycatcher family was proved by the broad beak and remarkably long bristles. One must have an aëroplane or, more practically, an observing station in the tree-tops to study these and a hundred other interesting birds at close range. With a couple of hundred spikes as a ladder, I intend some day to make one of these mighty trees give up many of its secrets.

As I was about to seat myself on the ground beyond the clearing, a big Guan5 or Maroodie, as we learned to call it here, arose with a loud cackling cry and a rush of wings. Simultaneously a dark-colored animal slipped into a hole freshly excavated some twenty feet away.

I lay prone, waiting for some other unexpected manifestation of life, but all was quiet. Then I prepared to watch for the reappearance of the unknown burrowing creature, and pressed my face close among the ferns where I could just see the entrance. A minute passed and directly across my line of vision, a few inches away from my face, crawled, as rapidly as it could move, a very large caterpillar almost four inches in length. Never have I seen a more remarkable looking one. Its ground color was a peculiar dark wine-red or purple, like the plumage of the Pompadour Cotinga. From the sides of the back projected brush-like tufts of red and black hair, while a continuous line of dense golden hair extended out from the body just above the feet. Over six segments was drawn a pale yellow pattern of the most delicate lace-like markings, a dainty network different on each segment. Altogether it was a wondrous creature and entirely put the burrowing mammal out of mind.

I carried it to our improvised laboratory on the veranda of the bungalow, but it refused food of all description, and day by day became smaller in size and duller in color. Instead of dying, it transformed one night into a large, beautiful chrysalid, yellow-green with a pale bloom over the surface. It was an inch and a half in length, thick-set in the centre and tapering rapidly. The joint between the fifth and sixth segments was hinged and the terminal portion would swing vigorously from side to side. The spiracle on the sixth segment was cream colored and much longer than the others, while the bottom of the chrysalid ended in two short, brownish spines. Seventeen days later in Georgetown, a beautiful orange-shaded Morpho butterfly emerged. I looked it up in a curious old volume, “The Insects of Suriname” by Madame Merriam, written many years ago, and found it was a rare insect, Morpho metellus, light orange on the fore-wings, shading toward the body into pale green and on the hinder wings to velvety black. From tip to tip it spreads six inches.

On this tramp I heard at least a dozen unusually loud or musical calls and whistles, new to me, which I could not trace to their authors. In one case, however, I was successful. Creeping up to a low, thick patch of brush, a splendid scarlet bird flew out and alighted twenty yards away, again giving utterance to its characteristic loud whistle. To-day I was contented with listening and watching, but later I secured the bird as I could not otherwise identify it. It was what I have christened the Black-headed Scarlet Grosbeak,134 differing from the description of this species in being 8⅜ instead of 7½ inches in length. It was scarlet below, dull red above, with a scarlet necklace and a jet black head and throat. A yellowish female showed herself for only a moment. The whistle was loud and penetrating, but sweet in quality. The first theme had three distinct phrases which may be represented thus:

The second consisted of three scales, the first ascending one being more abrupt than the succeeding ones, thus:

When the first bird ceased, another took up the whistle as long as I remained near the place. What splendid birds these would be in an aviary, striking both in color and notes. The nest, eggs and young, as is the case with so many South American birds, are unknown.

Goldbirds115 were calling all through the woods, and when one paid close attention, considerable variation was apparent in their notes. One individual uttered the wheé! wheé! o! twice in quick succession with the two introductory phrases (vide page 189) only before the first call. This was repeated three times and then the bird reverted to the usual single utterance. On my way home two agoutis sprang up before me and I secured one for the general mess.