A HUNT FOR HOATZINS 113 



beneath. At this there arose a monstrous hiss- 

 ing and a whistle of wings, and a cloud of black 

 vultures descended with a rush and roar from 

 surrounding roofs and trees. 



While watching and photographing them, I 

 saw an antithesis of bird-life such as I had 

 never imagined. The score of vultures fought 

 and tore and slid about in the black noisome 

 mud exposed by the low tide. Sometimes they 

 were almost back downward fairly slithering 

 through the muck to seize some shred of fish, 

 hissing venomously; and at last spreading filthy, 

 mud-dripping pinions to flap heavily away a few 

 paces. In disgust at the sight and sound and 

 odor, I started to turn back, when in the air 

 just above the fighting mass, within reach of 

 the flying mud, poised a hummingbird, clean 

 and fresh as a rain-washed blossom. With cap 

 of gold and gorget of copper, this smallest, 

 most ethereal, and daintiest of birds hung bal- 

 anced just above the most offensive of avian 

 sights. My day threatened to be one of emo- 

 tion instead of science. 



Berbice vouchsafed one more surprise, a mem- 

 ory from the past which appeared and vanished 

 in an instant. One of the most delightful of 



