;::::::::=»v two bird-lovers in Mexico B:-"-:"" 



Hardly were we settled for the night, when a low, 

 distant moaning drew us outdoors, just in time to hear 

 the full chorus of a band of coyotes, the lonesomest 

 sound — save the cry of a loon — in the world. The 

 coyote is a cowardly, sneaking wild dog, afraid to face 

 -any creature of size, but nevertheless the coyote has a 

 voice which sends the shivers up and down one's spuie. 

 Out at the end of the open glade we spied several dusky 

 forms against the sky-line, and from one of these arose 

 a long-drawn, hopeless howl. Then the others joined 

 in and the sounds quickened and shortened and rose in 

 chorus, until the air was rent with a frantic climax of 

 yaps, each animal striving to outdo the others. The 

 residt was demoniacal, and yet in perfect keeping with 

 the wild surroundings. 



Every evening about six o'clock (never varying more 

 than five minutes either way) a horde of tiny bats 

 rained down upon our camp, but whence they came 

 we could never discover. Six or seven hundred, as if 

 at a given signal, poured out of the dusk and dashed 

 low through the tangle of vines past the tents. Our 

 faces were fanned continuously by their wings, yet 

 never did they strike, or even graze, any object. So 

 thick were they that every SAveep of the butterfly- 

 net enclosed one or more. Is there any living creature 

 with a more grotesque and fiendish expression than a 

 bat ! Their immense, many-lobed ears, the curious 

 leaves of skin on the nose and cheeks, the tiny, evil 



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