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STEAY NOTES ON THE BIEDS OF TBINIDAD AND 

 TOBAGO, BKITISH WEST INDIES. 



By Collingwood Ingbam. 



Haleland Park, near Port of Spain, Trinidad, December 20th, 

 1912. — The Yellow-breasted " Qu'est-ce-qu'il dit " (Pitangus sul- 

 phuratus trinitatus) is certain to be the first bird to obtrude itself 

 upon the visitor's notice. Not only on account of its abundance 

 — for it is even common within the precincts of the city — but 

 because it has a habit of constantly screeching out its name in a 

 harsh, unmusical voice. Were it not for these frantic vocifera- 

 tions, this Tyrant would be an attractive bird, for it has many 

 quaint ways that point to its being endowed with more than 

 the ordinary run of avine intelligence. At this season it is 

 usually to be seen in closely consorting pairs, and I have no 

 doubt that fear of separation accounts for much of this dis- 

 agreeable noisiness. 



When I was in Port of Spain seven years ago, the " Johnny 

 Crow " — a black and unsightly Vulture (Catharista atrata) — was 

 common everywhere, and was so familiar that it is hardly an 

 exaggeration to say that one almost stumbled over the birds in 

 the streets of the town. Since then they have fallen on evil 

 days. The Trinidadians do not question their utility as scaven- 

 gers, but charge them with carrying their unsavoury viands on 

 to the roofs of the houses, whence morsels are occasionally 

 dropped into the fresh-water cisterns. This is hardly in accord- 

 ance with their ideas of hygiene, so the edict went forth that the 

 birds should be destroyed. " Johnny Crow " has consequently 

 been obliged to withdraw from the town, but he may yet be 

 seen in goodly numbers round the slaughter-house and on the 

 "dumping" ground beyond the harbour. In the township of 

 Le Brea, however, he is as tame as ever, and still shares the 

 garbage of the streets with the gaunt pigs and lean pariah dogs, 

 scarcely deigning to move out of the way of the passing negro. 



December 23rd. — : For several days I have been speculating as 

 to the owner of a peculiarly sad voice that I have heard calling 

 from the wooded hillsides. It is a very striking sound — a clear, 



