6 
Annual Reports of Academy of 
Company a little after six o’clock, and darkness, almost immediately 
following the setting of the sun in this latitude, fourteen degrees 
north, was already upon us. A full moon cast its silvery light 
through the giant tropical trees, silhouetting wonderous fantastic 
castles and other grotesque forms against a brilliant starlit sky. 
Here and there were great palms that furnished quantities of nuts 
to the United States during the war, to be burned into charcoal 
for the making of gas-masks. Now and then the weird cry of a 
night-prowling animal or bird, and above all the steady swish of 
the water against the bows of our pitpans, leave pleasant memories 
of a night never to be forgotten. 
Daylight found us in the Banbana River, much narrower than 
the Prinzapolka, but even more beautiful. Forest giants every¬ 
where with their leaves of many shades of green; now and then a 
cotton tree towering above its neighbors with a colony of Oropendo- 
las, called in Nicaragua Yellow Tails, decorating its topmost outer 
branches with a dozen or twenty long brown flask-shaped nests, 
four or five feet in length. Herons, blue and white, Egrets, Wood 
Ibises, and even our own familiar little Spotted Sandpiper, flew 
from some favorite spot along the bank at our approach. The 
Iguanas, or Cocomos of the Moskito Indians, basking in the sun 
along the banks, or feeding on the younger leaves of a bamboo, 
were seen in abundance, for March is the month when the Cocomo 
lays her eggs, forty to sixty in number, buried in some sandy 
sunny spot. The eggs and meat of the Cocomo are much sought 
for food by the Indians, the meat tasting like frog legs or very tender 
chicken. An occasional Crocodile, basking in the sun, scurried 
from its watchful sleep with a splash, and was seen no more. Over¬ 
head, long-tailed, harsh-voiced, Red, Blue and Yellow Macaws, 
flew in pairs or small flocks, interrupted in their feeding, or love 
making, by the put! put! put! of our tow boat. Yellow-naped 
Amazon Parrots, a pure white Cotinga, and birds of many and 
gorgeous colors, claimed our attention as we wound our way around 
the many bends of this swiftly-flowing tropical river. Distance is 
known not in miles, but in the number of bends, for there are, I am 
told, over three hundred of them between Tunky and the Banbana 
mouth. 
Ten o’clock that evening found us at the foot of the Walpatara 
Rapids, the longest and most difficult at all seasons of the year on 
this river, and here we tied up for the night. 
