143 
Mr. 0. Salving Quesal-shooting in Vera Paz . 
from side to side. The tail does not hang quite perpendicularly, 
the angle between the true tail and the vertical being perhaps as 
much as 15 or 20 degrees. The tail is occasionally jerked open 
and closed again, and now and then slightly raised, causing the 
long tail-coverts to vibrate gracefully. I have not seen all. A 
ripe fruit catches the Quesal’s eye, and he darts from his perch, 
hovers for a moment, plucks the berry, and returns to his former 
position. This is done with a degree of elegance that defies 
description. The remark has often been made by persons 
looking at stuffed Humming-birds, “ What lovely little things 
these must look in life, when they are flying about l” But they 
do not. Place a Humming-bird twenty yards from you, and 
what do you see of its colours, except in the most favourable 
position and light? This is not the case with the Quesal. 
The rich metallic green of the head, back, and tail-coverts 
reflects its colour in every position, whilst the deep scarlet of 
the breast and the white of the tail show vividly at a distance, 
and contrast with the principal colour of the body. The living 
Quesal strikes the eye by its colour at once. It stands un¬ 
equalled for splendour among birds of the New World, and is 
hardly surpassed among those of the Old. Such are my reflec¬ 
tions, when a low whistle from Cipriano calls the bird nearer, 
and a moment afterwards it is in my hand—the first Quesal I 
have seen and shot. 
This same evening we hear the cries of another pair of Quesals, 
but they refuse to listen to the voice of the charmer. A long 
chase after a pair of Pauhil (Crax globicera), which results in an 
ineffectual shot, now brings the day to a close, and, the path 
being neither very clear nor good, I think it best to return. 
On my way back I shoot a specimen of Sclerurus mexicanus , a 
bird I have never seen before. Its habits much resemble those 
of a Wren. I never saw either this individual, or others met with 
subsequently, climbing like a Dendrocolaptes , but usually hopping 
about the brushwood, and frequently on the ground, scratching 
among the dead leaves. The cry of the Sclerurus is shrill and 
may be heard at some distance. 
There is one bird in these forests which I became acquainted 
with, but was unable to procure. Nor could I obtain a more 
