644 
FOREST AND STREAM 
December, 1920 
FURTHER SOUTH AMERICAN NOTES 
CONTINUING THE WILDLIFE OBSERVATIONS OF A NATURE LOVER WHILE 
TRAVELING THROUGH LITTLE KNOWN PARTS OF THE SOUTHERN CONTINENT 
O UR journey from Georgetown to 
the Abary bridge was made by rail. 
The trip up the river from the 
latter place to the plantation house was 
through a veritable wonderland of na- 
ture. Surely life is at its fullest in the 
tropics. The thickets and wooded lands 
bordering the stream teemed with ani- 
mal life, while the never-ending beauty 
of the tropical vegetation always at- 
tracted the eye. Creeping vines and 
lace-like clinging moss formed festoons 
of rare beauty, and occasionally on a 
background of emerald green one would 
see an orchid blossoming in pristine 
beauty. Parrots and toucans with their 
bright and variegated plumage were 
winging their way overhead, while count- 
less hundreds of egrets, ibises and flamin- 
goes were feeding or indolently preening 
themselves on the broad, inundated 
savannahs. 
V 
D URING one of. our river trips we 
had a good view of the shy capy- 
bara, called by the natives, “water- 
haas”. This giant rodent must have 
been fully four feet in length, which 
measurement, by the way, is given as its 
maximum size. As the launch drew 
near the animal took a head-long plunge 
down the bank, and in a moment was 
out of sight. They are expert divers. 
The capybara ( Hydrochaerus capybara) 
is an aquatic animal, having partially 
webbed feet, a stumpy or rudimentary 
tail and wears a coat of stiff, bristle-like 
dark brown hair. They invariably fre- 
quent the margins of lakes and rivers 
_ and feed on succulent water-plants, but 
where planters cultivate adjacent terri- 
tory they, at times, do great damage. 
VI 
O NCE after a violent storm at Tiger 
Island we had a visitation of 
myriads of small beetles, called 
“hard backs”. They are not noxious in- 
sects, but they appeared in such num- 
bers as to seriously inconvenience us dur- 
ing the dinner hour. Our cover was 
spread on the porch of the plantation 
house and the insects quickly began to 
menace our meal. It was hardly appe- 
tizing to gaze upon a dozen or more 
beetles struggling in one’s soup. Just 
at the moment when our perplexity was 
at its height, a big land toad came to 
our rescue. He resembled the toad of 
northern latitudes in all but size. Our 
dinner party suddenly broke up, and all 
gathered about to watch his epicurean 
feats. We looked on in utter amaze- 
By J. W. YATES, Jr. 
ment, and finally decided it was plainly a 
case of over-eating. His capacity was 
unbelievable. Surely there would be a 
dead toad, but not so. Never once dur- 
ing the hour we watched him did he 
cease to stuff beetles into his insatiable 
maw. Any “hardback” that ventured 
within reach of his rubber-like, viscid- 
tipped tongue quickly found a way into 
his paunch. He hopped away only when 
the insects had departed for other realms, 
and there was a shortage of food. 
VII 
F OR a while on Tiger Island we had 
a jabiru or a “negro cop” in cap- 
tivity. This big bird stood fully five 
feet and was a majestic looking member 
of the feathered family. A shot at long 
range winged him and he was finally 
caught after an exciting chase across the 
savannah. He was a solemn-looking 
specimen, though, and never friendly. 
At a near approach he would begin to 
snap his big bill until it finally rattled. 
This was a note of warning to keep 
aloof. If one ventured nearer still he 
would begin to flap his wings in an effort 
to release himself and would finally 
sprawl out helpless. ’Tis an interesting 
sight to see one of these shy birds take 
wing. Although surrounded by countless 
numbers of other birds on the broad 
savannahs their immense size and tow- 
ering proportions make them peculiar- 
ly conspicuous. At the slightest alarm 
they spread their wings, take a few 
strides, and then with vigorous flapping 
get under way. The “take off” is seem- 
ingly laborious, but once in the oceans 
of the upper air they are strong of 
wing and can easily hold their own. 
RUFFED GROUSE TRACKS 
W ALKING through the September 
woodland I chanced upon the 
tracks of a bird in the dust of 
the road. The breadth of spread be- 
tween the toes said grouse and as I 
paused to examine them more closely, 
two or three of these birds flushed from 
the roadside undergrowth and flew fur- 
ther into the woods, confirming the 
dictum. 
Two or three months later the feet 
of the same bird would have made a 
different track, for in winter the ruffed 
grouse wears snow-shoes. That is, it 
has a fringe of slender, horny points 
extending along the sides of the toes, 
which gives it support when walking on 
soft snow. 
The grouse is sharply contrasted 
with the Dob-white in its fitness to meet 
the rigors of a winter climate. Al- 
though our southern birds are a 
browner race, the species, as a whole, 
extends northward into the much 
severer winter climate of Canada. One 
does not hear of ruffed grouse being 
winter-killed, as is so often the case 
with bob-white, notably in certain locali- 
ties during the severe winter of 1919-20. 
The bob-white is pre-eminenitly a 
southern bird extending northward only 
to southwestern Maine; and whereas 
the grouse (under the name of pheas- 
ant) is confined to mountainous locali- 
ties in the southern States, bob-white 
extend over Florida, though the Florida 
race is smaller and darker. It is pos- 
sible that the frequency with which bob- 
white succumb to the winter in this lati- 
tude, has something to do with the face 
that when northern covers have been 
stocked in the past, birds for that pur- 
pose have almost always been brought 
from further south. It seems not un- 
likely that these southern birds, mixed 
with the native strain near the northern 
limit in the range of the species, have 
weakened the resistance of our local 
birds to the most severe winters. It 
would be interesting to have a discus- 
sion of this matter by Forest and 
Stream readers. J. T. N. 
