AVES STRIGID^E. 69 1 



and beyond the valley on the bushy uplands many a crested tinamou had 

 been slain on her nest and her beautiful glossy dark green eggs left to 

 grow pale in the sun and wind, the little lives that were in them dead 

 because of their mother's death. But I wanted that bird badly and hard- 

 ened my heart; the 'demoniacal laughter' with which he had so often 

 answered the rushing sound of the swift black river at eventide would be 

 heard no more. I fired ; he swerved on his perch, remained suspended 

 for a few moments, then slowly fluttered down. Behind the spot where 

 he had fallen was a great mass of tangled dark-green grass, out of which 

 rose the tall, slender boles of the trees ; overhead through the fretwork of 

 leafless twigs the sky was flushed with tender roseate tints, for the sun had 

 now gone down and the surface of the earth was in shadow. There, in 

 such a scene, and with the wintry quiet of the desert over it all, I found 

 my victim stung by his wounds to fury and prepared for the last supreme 

 effort. Even in repose he is a big eagle-like bird ; now his appearance 

 was quite altered, and in the dim, uncertain light he looked gigantic in 

 size — a monster of strange form and terrible aspect. Each particular 

 feather stood out on end, the tawny barred tail spread out like a fan, the 

 immense tiger-coloured wings wide open and rigid, so that as the bird 

 that had clutched the grass with his great feathered claws, swayed his body 

 slowly from side to side — just as a snake about to strike sways his head, 

 or as an angry, watchful cat moves his tail — first the tip of one, then of the 

 other wing touched the ground. The black horns stood erect, while in the 

 centre of the wheel-shaped head the beak snapped incessantly, producing 

 a sound resembling the clicking of a sewing machine. This was a suit- 

 able setting for the pair of magnificent furious eyes, on which I gazed with 

 a kind of fascination, not unmixed with fear, when I remembered the agony 

 of pain suffered on former occasions from sharp, crooked talons driven into 

 me to the bone. The irides were of a bright orange colour, but every 

 time I attempted to approach the bird they kindled into great globes of 

 quivering yellow flame, the black pupils being surrounded by a scintil- 

 lating crimson light, which threw out minute yellow sparks into the air. 

 When I retired from the bird this preternatural fiery aspect would 

 instantly vanish. 



"The dragon eyes of that Magellanic owl haunt me still, and when I 

 remember them, the bird's death still weighs on my conscience, albeit by 

 killing it I bestowed on it that dusty immortality which is the portion of 

 stuffed specimens in a museum." 



