THE BIBDS. 
183 
larly. It was the first day in the Chaco. Our 
mule was steadily pulling the trolley containing 
our kit along the narrow disused track. We 
had not made fast progress, for more than once 
the trolley had left the rails, and for many miles 
the grass was so high and thick over the track 
that we had to burn it before we got through. 
But by now we were some way inland and night 
was approaching. I took a rifle and started 
for a river a couple of miles ahead, where I 
might get a shot. I did not, but my time was 
not wasted. We were passing through a wide 
plain, perfectly flat, covered with coarse grass 
and rimmed on the far horizon by a line of dark 
forest. On the right, some way off, was a large 
marsh, to which ibis of different kinds were 
winging their way, and flocks of snowy egrets 
and tall black and white storks. But it was not 
they who interested me, it was the birds of 
prey. Low down, quartering the plain, swing¬ 
ing into the wind, came drove on drove of the 
hunters. On they came, the insolent lords of 
the air, passing away overhead, replaced by 
others as far as the eye could reach, searching 
the ground up and down and backwards and 
forwards, restlessly seeking their meat. They 
did not find much. All the time I watched I 
did not see a single one swoop or pitch, and 
most of them must have gone to bed supperless. 
But on and on they came, in untiring succession, 
of all sizes and shapes and of every different 
