IN THE EYE OF DAY 205 



day "— as the Malays poetically call it— than had 

 been usual in my previous hunting and, though it 

 was oppressively hot, yet I enjoyed the chance of 

 the closer observation it gave of bird and insect 

 life. Neither, however, on more intimate ac- 

 quaintance, proved a sufficient reward for the dis- 

 comforts and heat. Bird life in the Peninsula 

 is not brilliant as to plumage nor entertaining as 

 to song; indeed, it is sombre and curiously silent. 

 Flying insect life also is entirely without the won- 

 derful colorings seen in some tropical countries— 

 Brazil, for example— but it is plentiful, and 

 though it fails to attract the eye at least it salutes 

 the ear, even if not pleasingly. It is vibrant with 

 noise; there is a continuous hum, somewhat les- 

 sened during the rain, but swelling into a roar 

 when the sun bursts forth between shifting clouds. 

 Monkeys almost rivalled the insects in number and 

 variety, and one, the wa wa, or singing gibbon, 

 common to most of the East Indies, made noise 

 even more insistent, his wail of a cry reaching high 

 and doleful above all other jungle sounds. About 

 the only bird note of which I seem to have made 

 record is the familiar one of our old friend the poot- 

 poot bird, heard so often in Sumatra and particu- 

 larly in Siam. But the most interesting sight in 

 the bird line was a black jungle fowl with red mark- 

 ings, though just how marked I can not particu- 



