THE LAKE OF PITCH. 49 



with a grip like a bulldog. Even this simile fails, for these 

 insects will allow their heads to be pulled off before they 

 will let go. 



Everywhere the ants attracted our attention; huge black 

 giants (Neoponera commutata), which seemed never to have 

 anything to do but parade slowly up and down the trunks of 

 trees; and the ever-busy parasol-ants, hustling along in single 

 file, waving their green banners and clinging faithfully to 

 them while falling down terrific precipices three or four 

 inches deep. We dug into their nests and found their fungi 

 gardens, one part of which would be freshly planted with 

 neat black balls of chewed-up green leaves, while in another 

 part the fungus was well grown a meshwork of gray strands 

 whose fruit was ready to be plucked and eaten. 



The hunting-ants (Ecitori) surpassed all the others in 

 interest. Day after day we would come across their great 

 armies, and we spent many hours of keen enjoyment watch- 

 ing their advance. We had read of their appearance and 

 habits; we had heard them compared to Goths and hordes 

 of savages, but no description prepares one for the actual 

 sight. We watched in particular one large army which 

 carried on its operations only a short distance from our 

 house. 



Long before we came within sight of the ants themselves 

 their presence would be heralded by the flock of birds which 

 kept just in advance, feeding upon the insects which ilew 

 up from the van of the ant legions. In one such assemblage 

 most of the birds were Woodhewers, big, cinnamon-colored, 

 creeper-like birds which hitched up the tree trunks and now 

 and then swooped down to the ground, snatched an insect 

 and swung back to the trunk. This flock of birds showed 

 other methods of feeding; Hummingbirds appeared from 

 nowhere, dashed down to a tiny insect and vanished into 

 space; Anis 80 blundered along, looking as if their wings and 



