■began to see and hear many strange birds, among them a 
yellow-bellied Trogon which flew across the road and 
alighted in a tree where it sat very erect and still. As 
I was watching it through the glass, it called so nearly 
like our Yellow-bellied Cuckoo that positively I could not 
detect the slightest difference. 
We had been at the Rest House only a few minutes 
when a Toucan began calling not far off. Its note was a 
single loud, rather raucous whistle. After it had called 
a few times the bird, to my great delight, flew across 
a wide open space alternately flapping its wings and 
sailing in deep undulations. It was a most extraordinary 
and uncouth-looking creature — indeed quite the strangest 
bird that I have ever seen. I could think of nothing 
but a big Pileated Woodpecker with a great curved fagot 
in place of a bill. 
After resting for half-an-hour, we entered the 
forest behind the house, followed a "trace" for perhaps 
half-a-mile, crossed a creek on a fallen tree trunk, came 
out in a cacao plantation and finally struck the road 
near the wooden bridge from which Chapman took one of his 
photographs last year. It was familiar ground to him 
but wonder-land to me. The forest was sufficiently 
bewildering with its wild luxuriance of tropical vegetation 
