goo JUNGLE PEACE 



upon carrion, so news of the cashew sweets had 

 passed through the jungle. Not by any altru- 

 istic agency we may be certain, as we watch the 

 selfish, irritable little beings, but by subtile 

 scent, or as with the vultures, by the jealous 

 watching of each other's actions. I observed 

 closely for one hour and counted one hundred 

 and forty-six hummingbirds coming to the tree. 

 During the day at least one thousand must 

 visit it. 



They did not have a monopoly of the cashew 

 manna, for now and then a honey-creeper or 

 flower-pecker flew into the tree and took toll of 

 the sweets. But they were scarcely noticeable. 

 We had almost a pure culture of hummingbirds 

 to watch and vainly to attempt to study, for 

 more elusive creatures do not exist. Convict 

 Trail revealed no more beautiful a sight than 

 this concentration of the smallest, most active 

 and the most gorgeous birds in the world. 



Such treats — floral and avian — were all that 

 might be expected of any tree, but the cashews 

 had still more treasures in store. The weeks 

 passed and we had almost forgotten the flowers 

 and hummingbirds, when a new odor greeted us, 

 the sweet, intense smell of overripe fruit. We 



