178 PROCEEDINGS OF THE NATIONAL MUSEUM Vol. 87 



town and the region north of it called LaMeseta being elevated about 

 40 feet above the surrounding plain. El Sombrero is at the point 

 where open savannas appear, there being one of some extent on the 

 Meseta near to^vn and others to the south. The Great Banco de la 

 Sabana begins below Calabozo. In these savannas the soil is stony 

 and poor, the vegetation mainly clumps of grass, and the earth is 

 visible everywhere. The prairies are surrounded by dense thorn 

 scrub and are dotted with occasional bushes. Along the edge of the 

 Meseta are small lagoons, about which several species of trees grew to 

 good height. 



The Rio Guarico here is a shallow, muddy stream running swiftly, 

 50 to 60 yards wide, with many winding sloughs leading back into its 

 flood plain. These were bordered with bushes, and in places there 

 were heavy stands of low trees or thickets with scattered larger trees 

 among them. The groimd was open beneath because of floods. 

 Where the land was higher some of it was farmed, but most of the 

 area was used only for grazing. Heavy, driving rains came during my 

 stay here but fell in afternoon or at night, the mornings being clear. 



On November 21 I returned to Maracay, stopping en route briefly 

 to collect in the thickets and woods along a little stream at Hato Paya. 

 The following day was given to packing, and on the morning of 

 November 23 I returned to Caracas. On November 24 I sailed north 

 from La Guaira on the Grace Line steamer Caracas (of the old Red 

 DLme). 



NORTH AMERICAN MIGRANTS 



To appreciate fully the intricate marvel of the great migrations 

 that annually carry millions of our birds south and then bring them 

 again to their northern homes one needs to see the arrival, movement, 

 and departure of these familiar birds in the Tropics. Here well- 

 known species stand out in bold relief among the scores of strangers 

 with whom they mingle, and the fact of their long journeys, known 

 in the abstract before, becomes concrete and definite. Never have 

 I had this impressed on me more forcefully than during my observa- 

 tions at Ocumare de la Costa, Venezuela, during the latter part of 

 October 1937. 



Beyond the sandy beach ui front of my veranda the blue waters 

 of the Caribbean Sea reached to the north to distant Puerto Rico 

 and Hispaniola, interrupted only by the nearby islands of Curasao, 

 Bonaire, and Los Roques and a few scattered islets, all out of sight 

 below my horizon. To the northeast lie the Lesser Antilles, and 

 much farther to the northwest are Jamaica and Cuba. 



The southward movement of migration was in full swing during 

 the period of my observation, and daily birds of the North, familiar 

 fnends since boyhood, passed before me. Spotted and solitary sand- 



