NOTES ON GUATEMALAN BIRDS^ — WETMOUE 525 



were gi'eat barrancas cut by the floods of the rainy season in beds 

 of volcanic ash. In this latter desolate region burrowing owls, black 

 phoebes, and occasional swallows were the main inhabitants. In 

 the barren barrancas I walked in blazing sun with little cover. Still 

 farther down beyond Alotenango at 3,200 feet, below the barrio of 

 Las Lajas, there were coffee plantations beside a great barranca that 

 harbored many interesting birds. The road continued on to 

 Escuintla. 



On November 9 I drove through Chimaltenango and Patzum to 

 Panajachel, where I located in the Hotel Tsanyuyu on the shore of 

 Lake Atitlan. The blue waters of this lake fill a deep valley and 

 are bounded by slopes covered with milpas of maize, in places where 

 the land sloped so abruptly that cultivation seemed impossible. The 

 cones of Volcan San Pedro and Volcan Tollman rose directly from 

 the lake shore with others towering just beyond. I had come here 

 especially to search for the large grebe Podilynibus gigas and devoted 

 attention for the first 2 days to the lake itself, hunting from a 

 launch powered with a decrepit engine whose occasional breakdowns 

 gave me time to enjoy the beauties of the lake and its mountain 

 background. I traveled along the northern and eastern shores where, 

 except for the fill made by the Rio Panajachel at the foot of its 

 valley, the shores were steep and there were no beaches. Often the 

 rock descended abruptly directly to the water, while in other places 

 small shrubs and low trees lined the slopes. Occasionally a coarse- 

 stemmed reed grew out for a short distance into the water, and rarely 

 there were scattered plants of a round-stemmed Scirpus. In bays 

 of shallower water toward the east and toward the west this Scirpus 

 was more abundant. 



The narrow valley at Panajachel had little coffee plantations to- 

 ward the lake and dense thickets on the slopes elsewhere, the valley 

 floor being devoted to milpas (cornfields and truck gardens) and 

 pastures, with low second growth where the flood plain of the stream 

 was too stony for cultivation. The abrupt slopes on either side were 

 accessible from steep trails that the Indians climbed as readily as 

 goats. 



On November 16 I crossed to Tecpam, which lies at an elevation of 

 a little over 7,000 feet, near the site of ancient Iximche, the Indian 

 capital of the region at the time of the Spanish Conquest. From 

 here, with chains on the rear wheels of the auto, I climbed slowly 

 through the mud of a steep and winding mountain road, which in 

 the fog and steady rain seemed to rise without end, until I arrived 

 at the Sierra Santa Elena, the estate of Axel Pira, whose house was 

 at an elevation of nearly 9,500 feet. Here I was received with the 

 most friendly hospitality, and here I found one of the most inter- 



