THE LAKE OF PITCH. 37 



jungle some lofty tree raised its huge white bole free of vine 

 and liana, and smooth as a marble column, towering far 

 above all its fellows; and out on the very tip of one of its 

 swaying branches the nest was woven safe from all tree- 

 climbing enemies. The notes of these birds were like deep 

 resonant cowbells, ringing through the jungle, clear and 

 metallic. 



During our stay in the village of Guanoco we had abundant 

 opportunity to observe the relations of a tiny hamlet like 

 this to the great world of primeval nature all around. The 

 jungle pressed close, instantly filling any neglected corner 

 with a tangle of vines and shrubs, ever ready to sweep over 

 all and reforest the little clearings about the huts. 



Sloths were rare near the village, as it had long been a 

 favorite Sunday amusement to go out and bring in one or 

 more of these defenceless creatures for dinner. But tree 

 porcupines (Sphingitnts prclH'nsilis), with bare, prehensile 

 tails and faces like little manatees, were common, as were 

 those gentle little creatures of the night, kinkajous (Cerco- 

 Icplcs caudivok'ulus)j or " couchi-couchis " as the Indians 

 call them. Catching porcupines and sloths is about as 

 exciting sport as picking blackberries; the porcupine being 

 too confident in its battery of spines to attempt to escape; 

 the sloth relying with pathetic faith on its wonderful resem- 

 blance to a bunch of moss or leaves. 



The " English Sparrows" of the village were beautiful 

 olive-green Palm Tanagers 144 and great sulphur-breasted 

 Flycatchers 102 which shrieked Kiss-ka-dee! at you as you 

 passed by. The French in Trinidad tell you that the bird 

 says Qu'est-ce-qiCH-dit ? but the Spaniard, true to his poetic 

 temperament, says, "No, Senor, el pajaro dice 'Crislo- 

 Juc! ' ' which seemed especially appropriate at this Easter 

 season. 



Every day one or two wild Chachalacas 7 would fly from 



