:::::::::*f TWO BIRD- LOVERS IN MEXICO m-:;:::; 



lowlands, but here they made up m full measure for 

 this silence ! The call of the loon is weird, the coyote's 

 voice most lonesome, but, for pure diabolical utterances, 

 commend me to the Laughing Falcon and the Cliacha- 

 laca, the acquaintance of both of which birds we made 

 early one morning. We were forcing our way through 

 a dense swamp, miles back in the jungle. The finest 

 ferns I ever saw stretched high above us, their lace- 

 work fronds six and eioht feet from the g'round. Huoe 

 elephant ears, several feet across, sprouted from the 

 black oozing ground, and many odours, spicy and aro- 

 matic, filled the air. The delicate growths of filament- 

 ous algae beneath the surface of the water looked as 

 if nothinor; had disturbed their jifreen thread-like leaves 

 for years. 



Few birds were here and no humming of insects 

 Avas audible. The steaming air was so heavy with 

 pungent earth and swamp smells that one imagined 

 that all low sounds w^ere deadened and lost. Here and 

 there a dry hummock rose from the swamp, covered with 

 short lawn-like grass and great running vines of con- 

 volvulus. From one of these a Boat-billed Heron flew 

 up, with a croak. Another parody of Nature and this 

 time on our Night Heron ! In voice, actions, and flight 

 this tropical bird is an exact copy of our large-eyed 

 nocturnal heron, but its broad, flat bill is as different 

 as is the bill of a gannet from that of a pelican. 



This bird was fearless and perched near by in full 



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