THE CURASSOW. 489 



tliose of a flageolet. It is difficult to imagine that they can be 

 produced by a bird. No bird, indeed, can be seen, however 

 closely the surrounding trees and bushes are scanned. Yet 

 that sweet voice seems to come from a thicket close at hand. 

 The listeners are silent, expecting to hear the strain com- 

 pleted, but disappointment follows. An abrupt pause occurs, 

 and then the song breaks down, finishing with a number of 

 clicking, unmusical sounds, like a piping baiTcl-organ out of 

 wind and out of tune. 



This is the organ-bird — the most remarkable songster by 

 far (says Bates) of the Amazonian forests. When discovered, 

 he seems habited in sober colours ; but he need not envy his 

 gaily-dressed companions — while, as a songster, he remains 

 unrivalled in his native woods. 



THE CURASSOW. 



High up among the lofty boughs of the thick forest sit a 

 flock of magnificent birds, each the size of a turkey. They 

 are the crested curassow (Crax elector). The plumage is of a 

 deep, shining black colour, reflecting purple and green shades. 

 The abdomen and tail-coverts are white, but the tail is black, 

 and generally tipped with white. On its head it carries a 

 handsome golden crest, the feathers narrow at the base and 

 broad at the tip, which it raises and depresses as it moves 

 along. Its voice, far from sweet, sounds like a hoarse cough, 

 and each time it utters its cry it partially spreads its feathers 

 and throws up its tail. The hen, however, has another way 

 of expressing herself, uttering a whining sound. 



Among the trees where they are perched are their large 

 nests, roughly formed of sticks and leaves and plaits of grass. 

 Their eggs, of which there are six or seven, are about the size 



