ECUADOR 225 
plasticine is used for the purpose, and the operator rolls one pellet 
at a time in his fingers, which only takes a few moments, and this 
he transfers to his mouth. With the tongue he pushes the pellet 
into the end of the barrel. Experience is necessary when aiming 
at a bird for the operator is not looking directly along the barrel as 
with an ordinary gun, and allowance has to be made for this. With 
a mighty puff the pellet is propelled through the shaft—its length 
giving it force and accuracy. 
I have often seen a blow-gunner bring down a hovering hum- 
ming-bird at a range of thirty feet. If the bird is struck it falls 
down winded and he rushes up and puts it into a porous cloth 
bag, and in most cases the bird recovers in less than a minute, and 
is perfectly normal. Usually the gunner puts several pellets at once 
into his mouth so that in the event of a miss he can quickly insert 
another with his tongue, and have another shot. As there is no 
noise, a missed bird is not disturbed or scared. When seeking 
humming-birds the gunner always tries to locate some flowering 
bushes or trees where the birds congregate to feed, and then stands 
still at a convenient range to pot at them while they are hovering 
in front of the fowers. A layman using one of these instruments 
will find that the pellet will trickle gently out of the end of the 
blow-gun and fall to earth a few feet away, but these experts, 
through constant practice since youth, have developed tremendous 
lung-power, and so produce a force equivalent to that of a power- 
ful air-gun. 
I set off by car from Quito and descended to the Tumbaco 
Valley (about 8,500 feet) and here got my first glimpse of the 
Giant Humming-bird, which looked quite enormous on the wing. 
What it has in bulk it lacks in beauty for it is one of the dullest, 
although the largest, of the family. Having crossed this wide 
valley, I picked up the muleteer complete with riding-mules, pack- 
mules and stores, and also the blow-gunner, who had gone on 
ahead, and then we started the long climb up to the Guamani 
Pass (14,500 feet). As we proceeded by easy stages it became colder 
and colder until I felt that I could no longer sit on a mule’s back, 
so I tried walking for a change. I soon discovered that walking 
up a stiff incline at fourteen thousand feet, in competition with 
