Hunting 
some chatter, some croak, and some bray like 
donkeys. Only a few modestly attired little ones 
really sing. There was one sound, however, 
that always had music for my ear. That was 
the familiar cry of the guinea fowls from the 
tops of the palm trees as I galloped home in the 
gloaming. As a magic wand, the sound would 
often call up memories of childhood’s home. 
The gorgeousness of the plumage of many of 
the larger birds, especially of the cranes and 
touracos, is indescribable. One who has seen a 
touraco darting up and down the limbs of a tree, 
will not soon forget the beautiful vision. Once, 
there appeared over me two cranes clothed in all 
the colors of the rainbow, and 1 brought them 
down with a single shot. They were about 
five feet tall, had gold-colored crests and much 
resembled the Balearic species, only they were 
more gorgeous in plumage. 
Some species of the guinea fowl were also 
very beautiful. One of these has a large black 
plume and another has a spray of gold running 
from the root of the bill back over the middle of 
the head to the neck. These last are blue-black 
and live only in the forest. The former are of 
the color of the ordinary guinea, but they are 
much larger. The little parroquets were also very 
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