A JUNGLE CLEARING 51 



twenty little green figures gazing intently down 

 at me, from so small a sapling that their addition 

 almost doubled the foliage. That their small 

 wings could wring such a sound from the fabric 

 of the air was unbelievable. At my first move- 

 ment, the flock leaped forth, and if their wings 

 made even a rustle, it was wholly drowned in the 

 chorus of chattering cries which poured forth un- 

 ceasingly as the little band swept up and around 

 the sky circle. As an alighting morpho butterfly 

 dazzles the eyes with a final flash of his blazing 

 azure before vanishing behind the leaves and 

 fungi of his lower surface, so parrakeets change 

 from screaming motes in the heavens to silence, 

 and then to a hurtling, roaring boomerang, whose 

 amazing unexpectedness would distract the most 

 dangerous eyes from the little motionless leaf-fig- 

 ures in a neighboring tree-top. 



When I sat down again, the whole feeling of 

 the hillside was changed. I was aware that my 

 weed was a northern weed only in appearance, 

 and I should not have been surprised to see my 

 bees change to flies or my lizards to snakes 

 tropical beings have a way of doing such things. 



The next phenomenon was color, unreal, liv- 

 ing pigment, which seemed to appeal to more 



