GREEN TODY. 73 



Bluefields mountain, about three thousand feet from 

 the level of the sea, and particularly where the 

 deserted provision-grounds are overgrown with a 

 thicket, almost impenetrable, of jointer, or joint- 

 wood (Piper geniculatum), it is especially abundant. 

 Always conspicuous from its bright grass-green coat, 

 and crimson-velvet gorget, it is still a very tame 

 bird; yet this seems rather the tameness of indif- 

 ference than of confidence; it will allow a person 

 to approach very near, and, if disturbed, alight on 

 another twig a few yards distant. We have often 

 captured specimens with the insect net, and struck 

 them down with a switch, and it is not uncommon 

 for the little boys to creep up behind one, and 

 actually to clap the hand over it as it sits, and 

 thus secure it. It is a general favourite, and has 

 received a favourite name, that of Robin Redbreast. 

 There is little resemblance, however, between the 

 West Indian and the European namesakes. I have 

 never seen the Tody on the ground; but it hops 

 about the twigs of low trees, searching for minute 

 insects, occasionally uttering a querulous, sibilant 

 note. But more commonly it is seen sitting patiently 

 on a twig, with the head drawn in, the beak pointing 

 upwards, the loose plumage puffed out, when it 

 appears much larger than it is. It certainly has 

 an air of stupidity when thus seen. But this abs- 

 traction is more apparent than real ; if we watch it, 

 we shall see that the odd-looking grey eyes are 

 glancing hither and thither, and that, ever and anon, 

 the bird sallies out upon a short feeble flight, snaps 

 at something in the air, and returns to his twig 



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