VOICES OF TROPICAL BIRDS — FUERTES. 319 



After some experience with them we came to distinguish the 

 three Mexican Amasonas b}^ their cries Avhen they were too far 

 away to tell by sight. A. oratrix, the "double j^ellow head" of 

 fanciers, cried quite plainly " cut it out, cut it out," while A. viridi- 

 ginalis called " poll poll parrot, poll poll parrot," and A. autum- 

 naliSf from southern Vera Cruz, had a sufficiently distinct screech 

 to immediately stamp it as something new, although I made no 

 transcription of its yell. 



Conures all make regular parrot noises, though shriller and 

 " lighter " than those of the larger kinds. But the " real noise " in 

 parrotdom is the great, gorgeous and ear-splitting macaw. Along 

 the lower Magdalena Eiver the red-and-blue and the blue-and-yel- 

 low macaws were both quite common, and it is hard to say whether 

 their greatest attack was on our eyes or our ears. Their hea"\^, 

 rasping yell was clearly audible above the churning racket of the 

 engines, even Avhen the birds were some distance away in the forest. 

 We were frequently apprised of their flights, high, high over the 

 valley as they passed from one great Andean chain to another, 

 perhaps 3,000 feet above us, by the penetrating, though distance- 

 mellowed, cries that filtered down to us from the scarcely discernible 

 line. When heard near at hand there is a heavy, hammering quality 

 in a macaAv's scream that makes it the most deafening noise that I 

 have ever heard from a bird, while their fiery beauty affords the 

 greatest sensation a naturalist gets in their country. Not only are 

 their exposed surfaces brilliant, but their wing and tail linings are 

 as gorgeous. I shall never forget a flock of blue-and-yellow macaws 

 we passed one evening just before sunset as we were descending 

 the Magdalena. We were between them and the low sun. They 

 were near, and about level with our eyes, relieving against the vel- 

 vety green of the forest wall directly where our shadows fell. The 

 astonishing glory of their turquoise upper surfaces, alternating as 

 they flew with intense cadmium yellow as the sun got under their 

 wings, kindled a flashing riot of color that made us gasp. 



So far as I Imow, parrots all pair for life, and every large flock 

 we saw, whether of macaws, parrots, or parrakeets, was made up of 

 pairs, each bird of which bore the same relation to the other all 

 through the flock. They looked as if m.ade with a paired stencil, or 

 seen through a double-refracting glass. Invariably, if one bird was 

 lost out of a passing flock, another would soon drop out, circle, and 

 come back to see what had happened to its mate. If, rarely, there 

 were unpaired birds in a flock, they were usually apart from the 

 main body, and conspicuously " out of it." In flight parrots present 

 a singular resemblance to ducks, particularly from ahead or behind. 

 Flying " across the quarter," their heavy blunt heads are, of course, 

 unmistakable. 



