THH OOLOGIST 141 
A Collecting Trip Into Mexico. 
By Dr. John Hornung, 
It was at the end of December last 
year that I found myself with a com- 
plete collecting outfit on the banks of 
the Aceponeta river, Territory Tepic, 
Mexico. 
As the railroad had barely opened 
this until now, absolutely secluded 
spot of picturesque Mexico, I thought 
it a good collecting place; at any rate, 
I determined to investigate. When the 
train from Magellan, Siu, which about 
half way south was substituted by a 
construetion train pulled in the “‘sta- 
tion’ of Aceponeta and dropped me 
and my outfit off, it was with some 
misgivings as to the outcome of the 
trip, a feeling superinduced probably 
by the possession or rather lack of a 
not overrich yocabulary of the Span- 
ish language. However I got along 
fairly well. 
Aceponeta is quite a little town. 
The half a dozen or so Americans who 
are here only since the railroad sent 
their glistening steel bars through 
this fertile stretch of land, are all con- 
nected with the railroad service. The 
population itself is so mingled, that 
you can see all colorshades from olive 
to dark copper, specially when you 
choose one of the benches, in the 
Plaza, where everybody seems to con- 
gregate after sundown, bent on enjoy- 
ing himself or herself by listening to 
the soft melodies of the Southland, 
which a native band offers. 
A provisional trip undertaken the 
next day to reconnoitre, convinced me 
that it would be best to go along the 
river for ten miles or so and camp 
there. 
With the help of a negro, who spoke 
both languages, I secured an assist- 
ant and two burrows to bring me and 
my belongings to a place which seem- 
ed most likely promising. With the 
liberal exercise of a good deal of pa- 
tience and after some trivial misun- 
derstandings, the burrows were finally 
packed and off we went; I myself pre- 
ferring to walk. I had so far managed 
to do all transactions with gesticula- 
tions and when the assistant, taci- 
turn perhaps by nature, preferred to 
keep the silence up indefinitely, it 
didn’t matter much, as I would not 
have understood him anyway; and 
aside from this, there were many 
things now well worth observing, and 
new to me which now attracted by at- 
tention. 
The town left, we started in a North- 
easterly direction, leaving the river to 
the right. On the end of the town 
where the stockyards and hundreds of 
Black Vultures (Cathartes atratus) 
were sitting on posts, fences or tile 
roofs waiting for refuse, Here and 
there carearas (Polyborus Aureb) 
were to be seen busily engaged in de- 
vouring the entrails of a dead pig or 
dog, and seemingly peacefully sharing 
their disgusting diet with ravens and 
egrackles. 
There is only one bird in this stretch 
of the country which outnumbers the 
Black Turkey buzzard; this is the 
Grackle (Quiscalus macrourus). Every- 
where you see this pretty busybody; 
the males with their steel blue glossy 
coat and their more somber colored 
helpmates unperturbed by pertinacious 
dogs or cats. 
You eat something and you are sud- 
denly aware of his presence between 
your shoes, picking up the crumbs 
which you scattered. They are exceed- 
ingly tame; no wonder—nobody dis- 
turbs or bothers them. There are no 
game laws to speak of in Mexico (I 
saw doves every day in the market, 
and fishing with dynamite is the rule) 
but the chief of police of Acaponeta 
informed me that Caracara and black 
vultures were protected. 
