ECOLOGY OF THE HOATZIN BEEBE. 537 



River in British Guiana. Through the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. 

 Lindley Vinton we obtained permission to remain here several days, 

 with excellent opportunities of studying the hoatzins. Three days 

 after our arrival Mrs. Beebe had the misfortune to break her arm, 

 and we were compelled to leave at once, with only a few notes and 

 photographs. These are, however, of sufficient interest to warrant 

 publication. 



The Abary Eiver is at this point some 20 yards across, and winds 

 through a great treeless savanna marsh in a general north and south 

 direction. Tlie east bank is for the most part clear of growth, except 

 for the reeds and grasses of the savanna. Along the western bank is 

 a dense shrubby or bushy line of vegetation, at times rising to a 

 height of 20 or 30 feet or again appearing only 2 or 3 yards above 

 the grass and reeds beyond. 



The presence of this bushy vegetation on only one side of the 

 river is probably due to the prevailing winds, which blow from the 

 east. The bush grows altogether in the water and consists chiefly 

 of a species of tall arum, or mucka-mucka as the natives call it, 

 frequently bound together by a tangle of delicate vines. Here and 

 there is a treelike growth, white barked with entire obtuse leaves. 

 This narrow ribbon of aquatic growth is the home of the hoatzins, 

 and from one year's end to another they may be found along the 

 same reaches of the river. In general, their habits do not differ from 

 those of the birds which we observed in Venezuela. 



Throughout the heat of midday no sight or sound reveals the pres- 

 ence of the birds, but as the afternoon wears on a single raucous 

 squawk may be heard in the distance, and we know that the hoatzins 

 are astir. Directly in front of the bungalow, between it and the 

 river, the brush has been cut away on either hand for a distance of 

 about 60 yards. Every evening from 4.30 to 5.30 p. m. the hoatzins 

 gather on the extreme nortiiern end of this wide break in their line 

 of thickets, until sometimes 25 or 30 birds are in sight at once. Some 

 fly down to the low branches and begin to tear off pieces of the young 

 tender shoots of the mucka-mucka. With much noise and flapping 

 of wings several soon make their way to a single bare branch which 

 projects over the cleared marsh. 



The first bird makes many false starts, crouching and then losing 

 heart, but the next on the branch, getting impatient, nudges him a 

 bit, and at last he launches out into the air. With rather slow wing 

 beats, but working apparently with all his power, he spans the wide 

 expanse of clear bush, then the 10 feet of water, then 15 yards more 

 of stumps, and with a final effort he clutches a branch — and his 

 goal is reached. After several minutes of breathlessness he makes his 

 way out of sight into the depths of the brush. A second hoatzin 

 essays the feat, but fails ignominiously, and falls midway, coming 



