FOREST AND STREAM. 
[July 27, 1901. 
Further Notes from Central America 
Ever since I have been old enough to comprehend the 
economy of living things, I have had a fondness for the 
observation and study of nature, and this tendency of 
the youth remains to-day in the man, augmented by in- 
dulgence and strengthened by a better knowledge of 
natural laws and natural phenomena. But during my 
entire residence in Central America, almost every hour 
of the day- — and many of the night — have, thus far, been 
claimed by professional duties, and yet in a land like 
this, replete as it is with material to engage the atten- 
tion of the naturalist, one cannot but note in passing at 
least some of the wonders of both animal and vegetable 
worlds which are constantly presenting themselves. Thus, 
granted the opportunity, one might write volumes con- 
cerning the beautiful moths and butterflies that are here 
encountered, the curious beetles, exceedingly various and 
interesting Orthopterce, including the Mantidcs, that family 
of strange forms known here as Madres de las culebras 
(inother of the snakes), and in the States as walking- 
sticks, camel crickets and the like, all of which are here 
in numbers; of spiders, scorpions and centipedes that 
come unbidden to our houses; of unfamiliar land crabs; 
of amphibian and reptilice, from climbing toads (Sapos) 
that make themselves at home almost anywhere during 
the rainy season,, and bright, gay-colored pechetes 
(lizards) that scamper along the paths on sunny days, to 
the monstrous frogs (Ranas) that clamor in the creeks 
and rivers, and the ungainly iguanas and garrobas of the 
coast and valleys ; of large rattlesnakes, still larger boas, 
pretty, but dangerous coral snakes, whip snakes and many 
other less well-known ophidians, together with hundreds 
of other creatures too numerous even to suggest. 
Nor could we omit the birds, many of which one recog- 
nizes either as the same species or very close relatives to 
those with which he has been acquainted in the States, 
while others are entirely new or known only to the Gringo 
as objects of domestication or properties of museums or 
bird fanciers. Large, bright-colored, vociferous macaws, 
chattering parrots and paroquets; toucans with enormous 
bills; quetzals and other birds of rare plumage; new 
species of hummingbirds, and spme among the wrens; 
doves in abundance, and wild pigeons — once so numerous 
in the United States, but now almost never seen north 
of Mexico — are here encountered. 
But aside from the wild creatures in the mountains and 
valleys, and those, such as climbing toads, lizards, 
scorpions, spiders, pretty brown rats, as well as the ordi- 
nary rodents, opossums which live tinder the house and 
catch young chickens, blood-sucking chinch bugs — the 
worst form of bed bug — moths and bats which seek the 
light, birds passing in and out of open windows, etc. — aside 
from these and others that come unsolicited to my Hon- 
duras home, I want to write in brief about some which 
have been taken there — either for diversion; observation 
or, as we say in Spanish, por lastima. These have afforded 
some recreation for the family, have been cared for with 
gentle tenderness while living, and, in event of death, 
have been given a sympathetic burial and a little wooden 
cross has generally been placed, by the younger member 
of the family, temporarily in the garden, marking the spot 
of interment — crosses being always more or less asso- 
ciated with either death or the devil in this part of the 
world. 
Where one falls with mortal wound or dies, there some 
amigo invariably erects a cross, and each passing friend 
ought, according to custom, at least to add a stone to the 
pile, which, in a short time, collects at its base. Naturally, 
in a land professedly Catholic, crosses of all sizes and 
shapes exist in those places set apart for the burial of 
the dead. As for the devil, crosses are emploj^ed to keep 
him at a distance. They are, therefore, placed on top the 
roofs of houses — especially those in process of erection, 
in order that they may be completed without the devil's 
visitation, while little wooden crosses are common objects 
of adornment within practically every native home. The 
cross— i. e., the material object— is a part of all Central 
■ American natives. They wear it suspended from their 
necks, they place it beside their couches, in front their 
puertas* on top their casas* and yet it is evident that the 
great lesson of the Cross is not understood, and the 
mental, moral and spiritual applications, so necessary to 
true service of the Crucified, do not enter into their lives. 
The cross itself is almost deified. It is to them a talis- 
man, a charm. It drives away the devil and prevents 
disease and death. It seems to me the devil is far better 
understood by these people than is their God. They 
locate him, however, in particular places—and these places 
can be invaded in safety only under protection of the 
cross. The following incident is illustrative. 
Having heard of the existence of a certain rare plant in 
a mountain about two leagues distant from my home, I, 
one afternoon while visiting a patient in that vicinity, 
made a trip up the mountain in search of the desired 
specimen. Returning to my home rather late, and being 
asked by my native cook the cause of my tardiness, I told 
her that I had gone that afternoon almost to the summit 
of Pefia Blanca. ... 
"Oh, no," she replied— our conversation being, of 
course, in Spanish— "it is not possible that you went alone 
up that mountain." 
"And why not?" I contested. 
"Because had you done so you would not have re- 
turnied." , , , 
"Would not have returned ! And what would prevent 
my returning?" u ^ • 1 
"The devil lives in that mountain and would certainly 
-have caught you had you gone up there alone." 
"But, Maria," T argued, "that is nonsense, for I myself 
saw where the woodchoppers had been at work well up in 
the mountain, and I haven't heard of any of them being 
caught by the devil." 
"That may all be," .she calmly replied to what I sup- 
*The Spanish "puerta" serves better here than the English word 
"door," as it signifies the entrance rather than an object for 
closing the entrance— which latter many of their abodes lack; and 
the word "casa," which means place of abode, is better here than 
''house," "cottage" or "shack," for it comprehends them ail- 
posed would be a concluding argument on the subject, 
"but they are different. The devil doesn't take or kill 
them because they never go into that motmtain without 
placing the thumb over the index finger, so [showing me 
with her own hand], thus forming a cross which keeps 
the devil at a distance. But you, I know, would not do 
this, and without a cross the devil wotild surely kill you 
and throw you down the steep sides of the mountain 
shotild you ever climb it." 
Already I saw that it would be difficult to convince her 
by argument, but I could not resist answering this ex- 
planation of the securitj"- granted the woodsmen, and so I 
said, "But, Maria, men cannot chop trees and hew logs 
with their hands engaged in forming crosses." 
To which she readily responded, "Certainly not, so as 
soon as they come to the place of work they at once make 
a little cross of two sticks, or mark with their axes one 
on the bark of the tree, and thus remain in safety." Then 
I desisted. 
But to return to our text. The first crieature coerced 
into sharing our abode was a small nestling, brought to 
our door by a native woman who had taken it from 
its nest in El Monte. That the bird was too young to 
live separated from its parents and natural environment 
was evident, but, humanely' considered, it seemed best 
to accept the gift, make it as comfortable as possible, and 
speak to the woman of the impropriety of thus pillaging 
nature — all of which I did. The little bird was what is 
here known as el caserito — an insectivorous passerine of 
general brown color and of not the slightest value in 
captivity, neither pleasing by song nor plumage. It was 
given a soft nest of cotton, its ever-hungry throat was 
stuffed with flies, moistened bread and tortilla, but, as was 
expected, its little life passed in somewhat less than three 
days, and it was buried in the garden. 
The next creature that was domiciled with us was ac- 
cepted with more pleasure— in fact, a small fee was paid 
for it, It, too, was a bird, but one full grown, pretty in 
appearance and an agreeable and not unwilling com- 
panion. Special description is unnecessary, as the J'aro- 
quito, or paroquet, is a common object in park museums 
and on city street corners — in which latter, places it tells 
fortunes and otherwise amuses the children. Along the 
coast and in the valleys of Central America these birds 
are quite numerous, flying in flocks, with much clamor, 
and devouring quantities of ripe fniits and nuts. This 
particular little animated ball of bright green, having the 
primaries of one wing cut, could not fly — a fact which, I 
believe, determined his death. He was particularly fond 
of attention and of being carried about on the hand, and 
when left on his perch — which was rather too high, I 
fear — would frequently jump down, with the result that, 
being unable to fly, he struck heavily upon the hard floor, 
evidently injuring himself, for, one morning after he had 
been with us about a week, he did not announce the break 
of day with his usual vociferations, and investigation 
showed that he was indisposed, and while the morning was 
still new he died and was buried alongside the caserito 
in the garden. 
Next came the fawn, a cute little Central American 
ziernadita, which was brought to me from a distance of 
four leagues by a nioso, who carried it all the way. This 
deer had been already some weeks in the house of a native 
and was perfectly tame. Her ears had been cut so that 
she would not exercise her fleetness of foot, and neither 
chain nor inclosure was necessary to keep her within the 
limits of a proper range. But she had been carried too 
far, and, perhaps, too carelessly, for on the day after her 
arrival she developed symptoms of peritonitis, from which 
affection she died the following morning. Fawns are 
common pets in many parts of Central America, and 
grow up very tame and docile. With the ears uncut, how- 
ever, after reaching a certain age, they take to the moun- 
tains as naturally as a duck to water, and are seen no 
more. 
Now came a tougher customer, a creature not un- 
familiar in the States, looking somewhat like an over- 
grown parrot whose feathers had somehow got changed in 
color, mostly to red ; whose head had been flattened some- 
what ; cheeks denuded of the feathers ; beak enlarged, par- 
ticularly the lower mandible, and tail feathers greatly 
lengthened out. This bird, known in ^Spanish as gua- 
camayo, and in English called macaw, is not a disagree- 
able companion when properly reared. This particular one 
is of the better class — does not disturb the neighbors by 
much screaming, nor tear to pieces everything within 
reach; does not bite with his strong, pointed beak, un- 
less unduly molested, and talks quite clearly. He fre- 
quently calls el doctor, and says such common expressions 
as "a Dios" "venga para aca," "no tengo cuidado," etc. 
He likes to sit on my arm or shoulder and also to climb 
the aguacate tree that stands in front our door. His 
primaries being cut, he cannot fly. At present writing 
he appears in excellent health, though a few days ago 
when General Sierra (President of Honduras) and suite 
paid a visit to San Juancito. as guests of our superin- 
tendent, and much dynamite was burned not far from 
our house in honor of the event, it did seem as though 
Mack, as I call him, would jump out of his feathers at 
each shot, and his nerves were under tension for a couple 
of days after. 
Another creature which still survives is a conejo, or 
na'tive rabbit. In size and appearance it greatly resembles 
the coney rabbit of the States, and is doubtless the same 
species, although its fur is, perhaps, of a slightly darker 
'and richer brown. It is a cute, timid little thing, content 
to sit all day and scarcely move, but as soon as night 
comes it begins to roam about, and. when allowed the 
libertv, runs all over the house. That rabbits are ani- 
mals "of nocturnal habits is well known, but those who 
have observed only the habits of the so-called tame rab- 
bits, have little idea of how strictly this is true of the 
wild ones. They make rather indifferent pets, although 
pretty and interesting. 
The hummingbirds of tropical America are beautiful 
and of various species. Passing along the road in the 
warm summer days the attention is frequently directed 
to their brilliant plumage, radiant with iridescent color, 
shimmering in the sunshine; but even in the rain have I 
observed iJiem flitting from corolla to corolla. Content 
to watch them in the enjoyment of their liberty, a slightly 
closer acquaintance with the "little emerald humm.er" was 
forced upon me one day last week by the appearance at 
my office door of a boy who held in his hand a wee nest 
of softest fabria, containing a full-grown hummingbird. 
"Compra un gorrionf" he queried. I asked the price, not 
because I needed the bird, but because I wanted to give 
it its liberty. "Un real," he said. So I bought the little 
creature, believing it well worth I2j4 centavos (the equiva- 
lent of about 5 cents United States currency) to liberate 
it. But, alas, already the youth's ruthless hand had 
plucked the primaries from one wing, and the poor thing 
was powerless to fly! And how, forsooth, can a hum- 
mmgbird exist without the power of flight? As well, al- 
most, deprive it of air. Pobrecitot I knew its hours were 
numbered, but took it to the house, where it was fed with 
sweetened water and guarded with gentle care. How 
hard it tried to use its bright, mutilated wings ! Gentle- 
ness and beauty were in it combined to a degree ex- 
traordinary. Perched upon one's finger, or the side of 
its nest, with its eyes half-closed, it seemed quietly wait- 
ing the inevitable. In the morning it died, its wee life 
passing for want of freedom. Species of Trochilidce are 
found in the cold wastes of Tierra del Fuego, in the 
region of snow-capped peaks in the Andes, and in other 
places where the possession of a power of resistance ap- 
parently incompatible with their frail structure is neces- 
sary to existence, and yet deprived of free flight, death is 
a question of only a few hours. 
And now as I write these closing lines there comes to 
my door a native carrying a huge snake. I will examine 
It and tell you something about it. It is what is here 
known as la zumbadora, a non-poisonous serpent which 
has a reputation for making a whip of itself. It is said 
to stick its head in the ground and slash about with its 
tail. This is, in part, true, for these snakes will strike 
with the tail and are capable of hitting quite hard. In 
general habits it somewhat resembles the black snake of 
North America. The zumbadora is here said to belong 
to the boas, but this particular one, I am convinced, is a 
colubrid and probably Spilotes corais melaurus. It is six 
feet long— lacking about half an inch— and has a maxi- 
mum circumference of about nine inches; is of general 
brownish color for the anterior two-thirds of its length, 
which deepens to a dark shining lead color in the caudal 
third. The belly is a dirty white. The head is neither 
small nor prominent, and covered with regular plates, 
while the caudal fourth of the reptile is well rounded. 
On each side of the neck a distinct blackish bar is obliquely 
placed. The tongue is dark, heavy and widely forked. 
The teeth are small and regular, and there are, of course, 
no poison fangs. This spedmen is alive and will be kept 
for further observation. 
Dr. J. HoBART Egbert. 
San Juancito, Honduras, Central America. 
Old Splayfoot. 
Texas Tom's Story, 
Tom would listen to the yarns the other boys told and 
grunt. He was a privileged character and grunted when 
he chose. Once in awhile he spun a varn himself; woe 
to any one who grunted then. The boys had orders to 
call me whenever Tom began to talk, so when Missouri 
Bill stuck his head into my shack, saying "Old Tex's 
gittin steam up, Jedge," I dropped my pen instanter. 
Queer, ain't it, said Tom, pulling his thin, gray beard, 
the bad blood betwixt old Johnny Bull and Pollyvoo? 
Always been that way, I've hearn, since Bonypart, or 
some other old Pollyvoo king, tried to swaller ther 
island hull, and found he'd bit off more'n he could chew 
Mebbe it's so, and mebbe it ain't. I don't know much 
history 'ceptin' Fourth o' July and the racket down 
yonder. 
Well, that's neither here nor there. What I was 
gom' to say, was, that I s'pose it was that same old badv 
blood that^kept young Ridgewood everiastingly pickin' 
and peckin' at Victor. Sit and poke fun at him by the 
hour, he would, and Victor p'raps would look mad a 
minute and then go off and sing 
Allongs onfongs der ma pattcryv 
Le zhure der glaw ate arrivay. 
Ridgewood said it was the Pollyvoo Yankee Doodle. 
It didn't sound a mite like Yankee Doodle, but it wasn't 
a bad tune for all that. 
We were at a trading post up in \he Sisklyous. Some 
of us were hunting varmint, and some were hunting 
gold, and some were lyin' round, waitin' for a job. Vic- 
tor did the cookin' for most of us, and I tell you he knew 
how to cook. He was a pretty fair doctor, too, and that 
counted when you were fifty miles from anybody else that 
knew arsenic from assyfetiddy. Better yet, he could fid- 
dle; why, he could yank music out of a fiddle by the 
yard. 
He kept some pigs, that he called "peeks," and' a lot 
of chickens that were tame enough to fly into the skillet. 
He'd go skippin' round on his toes with his bushy, gray 
wig parted plumb in the middle and his mustaches tal- 
lered till they stuck out each side of his face like they'd 
been wired. Oh, any other chajj with his pecool'arties 
'd have been kicked out of camp in a week, but he was a 
kind-hearted, sosherable little feller, and he could fiddle 
and cook. That fixed him. 
Old Ridgewood came over from England to look after 
his int'rust in some mine or ruther, and the youngster 
come along to hunt. The first time he see Victor, 
teterin' 'round, carryin' a kettle of soup, with an old hen 
on his shoulder that he was talkin' Pollyvoo to, and his 
mustaches sharp enough to sta!b her, he said "Oh, my 
eye!" and I thought he'd have a fit. 
But that wa'n't nothin' to the way he went on when 
Sunday come and Victor dressed up in a white shirt and 
a stiff collar. They were the only togs of that kind in 
the camp, and Hong Wah, our Chinese boy, laid himself 
out on that collar. It stood up like sheet iron and Vic- 
tor's mustaches stuck straight out across the top. 
Ridgewood made a picture of him — pretty good like- 
ness it was, too — with a rooster crowing away out on one 
o' them waxed ends, and a pig sprawling across t'other. 
It was enough to make a cat laugh, and some smart 
Alec showed it to Victor. 
He'd seen the rest of us grinnen', and he grinned, too, 
till he had the picture in his hands. Then all of a sudden 
his face turned kind of yellow and his eyes looked like a 
hawk's, I thought there'd be a rttmpus, sure, for Victor 
