Idle Days. 133 



scarcely breatliing, I approacli the iuterveniiig busli 

 and peep round it, only to find that he has already 

 vanished ! A hillock of damp, fresh sand, bearing 

 the impress of a tail and a pair of little feet, show 

 that he has been busy there, and had sat only a 

 moment ago swelling the silky fur of his bosom with 

 those deep, mysterious sounds. Cautiously, silently, 

 I had approached him, bat the subtle fox and 

 the velvet-footed cat would have drawn near 

 with still greater silence and caution, yet he 

 would have baffled them both. Of all shy 

 mammals he is the shyest; in him fear is never 

 overcome by curiosity, and days, even weeks, may 

 now elapse before I come so near seeing the 

 Ctenomys magellanica again. 



It is near sunset, and, hark ! as I ramble on I 

 hear in the low scrub before me the crested tinam- 

 ous (Calodromus elegans),the wild fowl of this region, 

 and in size like the English pheasant, just beginning 

 their evening call. It is a long, sweetly modulated 

 note, somewhat flute-like, and sounding clear and 

 far in the quiet evening air. The covey is a large 

 one, I conjecture, for many voices are joined in the 

 concert. I mark the spot and walk on ; but at my 

 approach, however quiet and masked with bushes it 

 may be, one by one the shy vocalists drop their 

 parts. The last to cease repeats his note half a 

 dozen times, then the contagion reaches him and he 

 too becomes silent. I whistle and he answers ; for 

 a few minutes we keep up the dv;et, then, aware of 

 the deception, he is silent again. I resume my walk 



