130 
WANDERINGS IN 
SECOND 
JOURNEY 
Its 
plumage. 
neither strike at him, nor hit him with their tail, nor 
tread on him, nor try to drive him away as an uncivil 
intruder. Were you to dissect him, and inspect his 
stomach, you would find no milk there. It is full 
of the flies which have been annoying the herd. 
The prettily mottled plumage of the goatsucker, 
like that of the owl, wants the lustre which is ob¬ 
served in the feathers of the birds of day. This, at 
once, marks him as a lover of the pale moon’s nightly 
beams. There are nine species here. The largest 
appears nearly the size of the English wood owl. 
Its cry is so remarkable, that having once heard it 
you will never forget it. When night reigns over 
these immeasurable wilds, whilst lying in your ham¬ 
mock, you will hear this goatsucker lamenting like one 
in deep distress. A stranger would never conceive it 
to be the cry of a bird. He would say it was the 
departing voice of a midnight murdered victim, or 
the last wailing of Niobe for her poor children, before 
she was turned into stone. Suppose yourself in 
hopeless sorrow, begin with a high loud note, arid 
pronounce, “ ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,” each note 
lower and lower, till the last is scarcely heard, 
pausing a moment or two betwixt every note, and 
you will have some idea of the moaning of the 
largest goatsucker in Demerara. 
Four other species of the goatsucker articulate 
some words so distinctly, that they have received their 
names from the sentences they utter, and absolutely 
bewilder the stranger on his arrival in these parts. 
The most common one sits down close by your door, 
