ON AN EAST AFRICAN RANCH 33 



most part they either had no names at all or names that 

 meant nothing to us. There were glossy starlings of many 

 kinds; and scores of species of weaver finches, some brill- 

 iantly colored, others remarkable because of the elaborate 

 nests they built by communities among the trees. There 

 were many kinds of shrikes, some of them big, parti-colored 

 birds, almost like magpies, and with a kestrel-like habit of 

 hovering in the air over one spot; others very small and 

 prettily colored. There was a little red-billed finch with its 

 outer tail feathers several times the length of its head and 

 body. There was a little emerald cuckoo, and a tiny thing, 

 a barbet, that looked exactly like a kingfisher four inches 

 long. Eared owls flew up from the reeds and grass. There 

 were big, restless, wonderfully colored plantain-eaters in 

 the woods; and hornbills, with strange swollen beaks. A 

 true lark, colored like our meadow-lark (to which it is in 

 no way related) sang from bushes; but the clapper-lark 

 made its curious clapping sounds (apparently with its wings 

 like a ruffed grouse) while it zigzagged in the air. Little 

 pipits sang overhead like our Missouri skylarks. There 

 were night-jars; and doves of various kinds, one of which 

 uttered a series of notes slightly resembling the call of our 

 whippoorwill or chuckwills widow. The beautiful little sun- 

 birds were the most gorgeous of all. Then there were bus- 

 tards, great and small, and snake-eating secretary birds, 

 on the plains; and francolins, and African spurfowl with 

 brilliant naked throats, and sand grouse that flew in packs 

 uttering guttural notes. The wealth of bird life was be- 

 wildering. There was not much bird music, judged by 

 the standards of a temperate climate; but the bulbuls, and 

 one or two warblers, sang very sweetly. The naturalists 



