24 SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION 



dense rain forest where huge trees rose from buttressed roots to 

 heights of 150 feet or more. Their trunks were wound with climbing 

 figs and other vines, masses of parasitic plants covered their limbs, 

 and from their tops long, slender lianas hung like ropes, sometimes 

 dropping 50 to 75 feet without leaf or branch to break their straight, 

 symmetrical lines. Below there were dense growths of shrubbery, 

 palms with trunks set closely with long, black, needle-shaped spines 

 that reminded me always of spine-covered sea-urchins, and masses of 

 vines and creepers. The vegetation everywhere was saturated with 

 water from the daily afternoon rains. 



In this great, uninhabited forest birds were as abundant as in the 

 lowlands, though sometimes they were found with difficulty because 

 of the dense growth. Walking quietly, aided by the wet leaves under- 

 foot, I came across long-legged, stub-tailed ant-birds (Grallaria 

 haplonota) that ran alertly on the ground like robins, but that at any 

 noise slipped silently away. Brilliant cotingas (Euchlornis formosa) 

 with bright green backs, yellow underparts, and a large spot of deep 

 red in the center of the breast ate the drupes of berry-bearing shrubs 

 in company with a brilliant company of small tanagers whose colors 

 embraced the most vivid hues of the spectrum. Musical-voiced wood 

 wrens (Henicorhina) sang from shadowy tangles, while in the bushes 

 above were ant-shrikes, flycatchers, and allied species in almost end- 

 less variety. The tree tops were given to warblers, honey-creepers, 

 parrots, small hawks and trogons, while in the sky above were swifts 

 and swallows. Often the report of my gun brought answer from 

 hoarse-voiced howler monkeys ranging wooded ridges a mile away 

 across deep valleys. 



In early November with Mr. Ventura Barnes I left Maracay one 

 morning at dawn and traveled southward. We drove slowly until 

 noon, watching for birds, our road traversing a broad, open valley 

 bounded by rolling hills, and crossing many shallow streams. After 

 many years of anticipation I was at last to see something of the Llanos, 

 the great, level plains that extend down to the Rio Orinoco. We came 

 out of the hills below Ortiz, to find the land level but grown with 

 dense thorn scrub. The elevation ran from 360 to 400 feet above sea 

 level though we were far in the interior. That night we reached the 

 little settlement of El Sombrero where I remained while Mr. Barnes 

 returned to Maracay. 



The town was placed beside the Rio Guarico, a swiftly flowing, 

 shallow, muddy stream. Here there were open prairies, some of them 

 more than a mile in extent, on which I found the spur-winged plover 

 (Belonopterus), an old friend of previous expeditions farther south. 



