400 Mr. B. Swinhoe on Formosan Ornithology. 
what at the range I fired appeared to me a small Buzzard, was 
a no smaller bird than the Spotted Eagle. 
February 21.—In some bamboos close to the mountain- 
village where we had passed the night, a Sibia auricularis was 
singing the same run of notes over and over again repeated with 
little variation. They were sweet and agreeable, but in style so 
like those of Copsychus saularis 3 that before I saw the bird I 
knew what the songster was. 
One small species in a grove bothered me exceedingly. The 
little fellows were all over the trees, each one chattering and 
twittering, and moving about in a most desultory manner. . I 
got at last a fixed glance at one of them, and observed that it had 
a white ring round the eye. I thought I had discovered a new 
species of Zosterops. I stood entranced, watching their antics. 
A small Woodpecker was crying near me. I turned from him. 
I did not heed a pair of Hypsipetes that were sitting and calling 
to one another on the top of the tree over head. At last with 
trembling hand I fired. Down fell the bird. I rushed to pick 
it up, and was just in time to snatch the booty from a monstrum 
horrendum in the form of a large Tropidonotus that was in the act 
of seizing it. But my bird was only the Alcippe morrisonia. My 
silent solitary acquaintance of a few days previously, when I had 
occasionally observed it clinging to the sides of trees like a Nut¬ 
hatch, was here in moderately large parties, and as noisy as any 
other noisy little species. Subsequently I heard the bird on 
many occasions uttering its loud harsh notes. It is in habits 
like a diminutive Garrulax. 
Dicrurus , Budytes , Motacilla, and other birds of the plains 
were common enough on this cleared delta, between the two 
mountain-streams. The low woods were without leaves, and it 
was very hot. I tried to persuade my guides to descend and 
cross the stream to the mountain-jungle, but they said that 
they were leading me to the Green Doves. True enough, on 
the side of a rise they pointed out several Green Doves perched 
on the trees. We clambered up the hill, and on a high tree in 
the ravine on the other side sat a Green Dove. One of the 
hunters fired at it, but it only flew to another tree. I fired, and 
a shower of feathers was scattered from its rump. It flew still 
