■SINE VATE SACRO. 
303 
Frequently, on the overhanging branches the fish-hawk takes his 
stand, with white head and neck, and body of a reddish-chocolate colour. 
He generally kills more fish than he is able to eat, as he consumes only 
a choice morsel of the back; the rest falls to the share of the Barotse, 
who may be seen, at times, racing with one another to secure the 
prize. Sometimes he rifles the pouch of the pelican in a manner which 
is certainly ingenious. Winging his way through the blue, he watches 
till the pelican has transferred a fine fish to his pouch, when he swoops 
downward with a rushing noise. The pelican looks up to see if the 
heavens have suddenly rent asunder, and seeing the descent of his 
persecutor, raises a loud cry of mingled alarm and indignation. The 
hawk profits by the opening of the pelican's mouth to abstract the 
fish from his pouch, and fly away rejoicing ; while the nelican, feeling 
that regrets are useless, quietly resumes his fishing. 
It is generally believed that the tropical birds are deficient in 
power of song, but this is not the case in many parts of Africa, and 
certainly not along the course of the Zambesi. Some of the birds 
warble clearly and brightly like the lark; others resemble the thrush; 
and others again remind the traveller of the robin and the chaflanch, 
though some curious abrupt notes break in upon the otherwise familiar 
melody. One bird deliberately utters " puk, puk, pok;" yet another 
gives forth a single note like a stroke on a violin-string. The mokwa 
reza utters a " screaming set of notes " like our blackbii'd when dis- 
turbed ; and then concludes with what the natives imitate by the 
words " pula, pula " (rain, rain), though more like " weep, weep, weep." 
The loud cry of the francolins may also be heard; with the " chiken, 
chiken, chik, churr, churr" of the honey-guide, and the " pampum, 
pampum " of the turtle-dove. Near villages a kind of mocking-bird 
imitates the calls of domestic fowls. It is true, no doubt, as one 
traveller says, that these African birds have not been wanting in song 
so much as in poets to sing their praises. Our English birds in this 
respect have been fortunate beyond all others. The Greek and Latin 
poets allude but slightly and unfrequently to the music of the feathered 
minstrels of Italy and Hellas. Even the later Italian poets have little 
to say in praise of the bird-voices of their native land; and the warblei's 
