Jones : In the Teopics, 



1-29 



good meal off the backs of our hands. These bees are about half the 

 size of the common house-fly, and have no stings, belonging to the 

 Melipoiia group. Some of them make their nests in the ground, others 

 in the hollow trunks of trees. The entrance to the nest is formed of 

 a resinous substance, and usually projects in a trumpet shape some 

 little way from the surface of the tree or the ground. I remember 

 once knocking off one of these trumpets that projected three or four 

 inches from a bank at about the level of my head, not knowing 

 what it was ; and before I had time to run, I had a swarm of bees in 

 my hair, buzzing and burrowing in all directions, and rolling them- 

 selves up in my hair. As I did not know at the time that they had 

 no stings, I did not quite like the appearance of things, to say nothing 

 of the sensation of these little bees rooting about my head. But I 

 soon managed to get them all out, and was none the worse for the 

 affair. These tiny bees make excellent honey, and their nests are much 

 sought after by the Brazilian peasants. The sort that nests in the 

 ground makes especially fine honey, quite clear and colourless, and of 

 delicious flavour. Certain kinds of the tree bees are never molested, 

 as the Brazilians say the honey is not lit to eat. This is probably 

 from the bees collecting from some poisonous flowers. 



As we still enjoy the cool shade of our friendly tree, we hear away 

 in the distance the strange cry of the araponga or anvil bird, as it 

 clangs away on the top of some lofty pinnacle of the forest. At this 

 distance the sound is pleasant enough, though close at hand it is harsh 

 in the extreme. The Brazilians are very fond of keeping this bird 

 caged, and the way in which it jerks out its ear-sliattering cry is 

 excruciating. The only thing I can liken it to, if your imaginations 

 are powerful enough to realise the combination, is a rusty hinge with a 

 bad cough. A long sustained note of great volume and power, that the 

 bird sometimes indulges in is not so objectionable; but, altogether, I 

 think keeping arapougas within two miles of one's neighbour's house, 

 is an offence against society, and ought to be put down by the law. ' 



But now, as the heat increases, the music of the birds begins to 

 cease, and we hear only the sound of insect life. The cicadas are in 

 their element under the fierce heat of the sun, and si^em to be trying 

 which can make the loudest noise. They begin with a complaining 

 sort of whirr, on a decending scale, which is repeated at intervals, the 

 interval becoming shorter and shorter each time, till at last the sound 

 is almost continuous, giving one the idea of revolving machinery that 

 is set in motion and gradually gains in speed ; then the insect suddenly 

 breaks out into the most piercingly shrill note, that reminds one of 



