The Crested Screamer. 225 
quality utterly unlike screams. Sometimes when 
walking across Regent’s Park I hear the resound- 
ing cries of the bird confined there attempting to 
sing; above the concert of cranes, the screams of 
eagles and macaws, the howling of dogs and wolves 
and the muffled roar of lions, one can hear it all over 
the park. But those loud notes only sadden me. 
Exile and captivity have taken all joyousness from 
the noble singer, and a moist climate has made him 
hoarse ; the long clear strains are no more, and he 
hurries through his series of confused shrieks as 
quickly as possible,as if ashamed of the performance. 
A lark singing high up in a sunny sky and a lark 
singing in a small cage hanging against a shady wall 
ina London street produce very different effects; and 
the spluttering medley of shrill and harsh sounds 
from the street singer scarcely seems to proceed 
from the same kind of bird as that matchless melody 
filling the blue heavens. There is even a greater 
difference in the notes of the crested screamer when 
heard in Regent’s Park and when heard on the 
pampas, where the bird soars upwards until its 
bulky body disappears from sight, and from that vast 
elevation pours down a perpetual rain of jubilant 
sound. 
Screamer being a misnomer, I prefer to call the 
bird by its vernacular name of chaja, or chakar,a more 
convenient spelling. 
With the chakar the sexes are faithful, even in 
very large flocks the birds all being ranged in 
couples. When one bird begins to sing its partner 
immediately joins, but with notes entirely different 
in quality. Both birds have some short deep notes, 
