THE PRIMEVAL FORESTS OF CENTRAL AFRICA. 217 



female each sing a distinct part. In one species which I observed 

 — the scarlet shrike — the male sings a short strophe, reminding one 

 of the intricate whistle of our golden oriole. In another — the flute- 

 shrike — the male utters three bell-like flute-notes, striking third, 

 key-note, and octave. Immediately following comes the answer of 

 the female, in both cases a disagreeable croaking not easily described, 

 but as unfailingly correct in time as if the birds had been instructed 

 by a musician. Sometimes it happens that the female begins, and 

 croaks four or flve times before the answer comes; then the male 

 strikes in again, and they alternate with their usual regularity. I 

 have convinced myself experimentally as to this co-operation of the 

 sexes, by shooting now the male and now the female, and in every 

 case only the notes of the surviving sex could be heard. It 

 must be allowed that these notes, enchanting as they are at first, 

 lack the richness and variety, as the collective voices lack the 

 tunefulness and harmony, of the bird songs in our woods at home; 

 nevertheless it is a grand and impressive melody which one hears 

 in the primitive forest in spring-time when hundreds and thousands 

 of voices mingle together, millions of insects swarm with loud bum- 

 ming and buzzing round the blossom-laden trees, countless lizards 

 and snakes rustle through the dry fohage, and every now and then 

 the shrill yet sonorous call of the eagle sounds down from above, 

 the trumpet notes of the crested crane or the guinea-fowl are heard 

 for the time above all other voices, immediately afterwards a 

 warbler sings his charming song quite close to the listener's ear, and 

 again, one of the screamers gives the key-note, which awakes an 

 echo from a thousand throats. 



If the naturalist succeeds in becoming more at home in the 

 forest than he had at first ventured to hope, he gets many delightful 

 glimpses of the domestic life of animals, and more particularly of 

 birds. It is still spring-time, and love reigns in all hearts. The 

 birds sing and caress, build their nests, and brood. Even from the 

 boat one can observe the brooding colonies of some species. 



On a perpendicular pairt of the river bank, at a safe distance 

 above the high-water mark, the bee-eaters have hollowed out their 

 deep brooding burrows, narrow at the entrance, but widening out 



