98 THROUGH THE BRAZILIAN WILDERNESS 



and as large as turkeys, perched on the very topmost 

 branches of the tallest trees. Hyacinth macaws screamed 

 harshly as they flew across the river. Among the trees 

 was the guan, another peculiar bird as big as a big grouse, 

 and with certain habits of the wood-grouse, but not akin 

 to any northern game-bird. The windpipe of the male is 

 very long, extending down to the end of the breast-bone, 

 and the bird utters queer guttural screams. A dead cay- 

 man floated down-stream, with a black vulture devouring 

 it. Capybaras stood or squatted on the banks; sometimes 

 they stared stupidly at us; sometimes they plunged into 

 the river at our approach. At long intervals we passed 

 little clearings. In each stood a house of palm-logs, with 

 steeply pitched roof of palm thatch; and near by were 

 patches of corn and mandioc. The dusky owner, and per- 

 haps his family, came out on the bank to watch us as we 

 passed. It was a hot day — the thermometer on the deck 

 in the shade stood at nearly loo degrees Fahrenheit. Biting 

 flies came aboard even when we were in midstream. 



Next day we were ascending the Cuyaba River. It had 

 begun raining in the night, and the heavy downpour con- 

 tinued throughout the forenoon. In the morning we halted 

 at a big cattle-ranch to get fresh milk and beef. There 

 were various houses, sheds, and corrals near the river's 

 edge, and fifty or sixty milch cows were gathered in one 

 corral. Spurred plover, or lapwings, strolled familiarly 

 among the hens. Parakeets and red-headed tanagers lit 

 in the trees over our heads. A kind of primitive house- 

 boat was moored at the bank. A woman was cooking 

 breakfast over a little stove at one end. The crew were 

 ashore. The boat was one of those which are really stores. 





