THE OOLOGIST 



141 



A Collecting Trip Into Mexico. 

 By Dr. John Hornung. 



It was at the end of December last 

 year that I found myself with a com- 

 plete collecting outfit on the banks of 

 the Aceponeta river, Territory Tepic, 

 Mexico. 



As the railroad had barely opened 

 this until now, absolutely secluded 

 spot of picturesque Mexico, I thought 

 it a good collecting place; at any rate, 

 I determined to investigate. When the 

 train from Magellan, Sin, which about 

 half way south was substituted by a 

 construction train pulled in the "sta- 

 tion" of Aceponeta and dropped me 

 and my outfit off, it was with some 

 misgivings as to the outcome of the 

 tri]), a feeling superinduced probably 

 by the possession or rather lack of a 

 not overrich vocabulary of the Span- 

 ish language. However I got along 

 fairly well. 



Aceponeta is quite a little town. 

 The half a dozen or so Americans who 

 are here only since the railroad sent 

 their glistening steel bars through 

 this fertile stretch of land, are all con- 

 nected with the railroad service. The 

 population itself is so mingled, that 

 you can see all colorshades from olive 

 to dark copper, specially when you 

 choose one of the benches, in the 

 Plaza, where everybody seems to con- 

 gregate after sundown, bent on enjoy- 

 ing himself or herself by listening to 

 the soft melodies of the Southland, 

 which a native band offers. 



A provisional trip undertaken the 

 next day to reconnoitre, convinced me 

 that it' would be best to go along the 

 river for ten miles or so and camp 

 there. 



With the help of a negro, who spoke 

 both languages, I secured an assist- 

 ant and two burrows to bring me and 

 my belongings to a place which seem- 

 ed most likely promising. With the 



liberal exercise of a good deal of pa- 

 tience and alter some trivial misun- 

 derstandings, the burrows were finally 

 packeil and off we went; I myself pre- 

 ferring to walk. I had so far managed 

 to do all transactions with gesticula- 

 tions and when the assistant, taci- 

 turn perhaps by nature, preferred to 

 keep the silence up indefinitely, it 

 didn't matter much, as I would not 

 have understood him anyway; and 

 aside from this, there were many 

 things now well worth observing, and 

 new to me which now attracted by at- 

 tention. 



The town left, we started in a North- 

 easterly direction, leaving the river to 

 the right. On the end of the town 

 where the stockyards and hundreds of 

 Black Vultures (Cathartes atratus) 

 were sitting on posts, fences or tile 

 roofs waiting for refuse. Here and 

 there carcaras (Polyborus Aureb) 

 were to be seen busily engaged in de- 

 vouring the entrails of a dead pig or 

 dog, and seemingly peacefully sharing 

 their disgusting diet with ravens and 

 grackles. 



There is only one bird in this stretch 

 of the country which outnumbers the 

 Black Turkey buzzard; this is the 

 Grackle (Quiscalus macrourus). Every- 

 where you see this pretty busybody; 

 the males with their steel blue glossy 

 coat and their more somber colored 

 helpmates unperturbed by pertinacious 

 dogs or cats. 



You eat something and you are sud- 

 denly aware of his presence between 

 your shoes, picking up the crumbs 

 which you scattered. They are exceed- 

 ingly tame: no wonder — nobody dis- 

 turbs or bothers them. There are no 

 game laws to speak of in Mexico (I 

 saw doves every day in the market, 

 and fishing with dynamite is the rule) 

 but the chief of police of Acaponeta 

 informed me that Caracara and black 

 vultures were protected. 



