The Curl-crested Toucan (Pteroglossus Beauharnaisii).—Of the four smaller Toucans, or Arassaris, found near Ega, the Pteroglossus flavirostris is perhaps the most beautiful in colours, its breast being adorned with broad belts of rich crimson and black; but the most curious species, by far, is the Curl-crested, or Beauharnais Toucan. The feathers on the head of this singular bird are transformed into thin, horny plates, of a lustrous black colour, curled up at the ends, and resembling shavings of steel or ebony-wood: the curly crest being arranged on the crown in the form of a wig. Mr. Wallace and I first met with this species, on ascending the Amazons, at the mouth of the Solimoens; from that point it continues as a rather common bird on the terra firma, at least on the south side of the river as far as Fonte Boa, but I did not hear of its being found further to the west. It appears in large flocks in the forests near Ega in May and June, when it has completed its moult. I did not find these bands congregated at fruit-trees, but always wandering through the forest, hopping from branch to branch amongst the lower trees, and partly concealed amongst the foliage. None of the Arassarís, to my knowledge, make a yelping noise like that uttered by the larger Toucans (Ramphastos); the notes of the curl-crested species are very singular, resembling the croaking of frogs. I had an amusing adventure one day with these birds. I had shot one from a rather high tree in a dark glen in the forest, and entered the thicket where the bird had fallen to secure my booty. It was only wounded, and on my attempting to seize it, set up a loud scream. In an instant, as if by magic, the shady nook seemed alive with these birds, although there was certainly none visible when I entered the jungle. They descended towards me, hopping from bough to bough, some of them swinging on the loops and cables of woody lianas, and all croaking and fluttering their wings like so many furies. If I had had a long stick in my hand I could have knocked several of them over. After killing the wounded one, I began to prepare for obtaining more specimens and punishing the viragos for their boldness; but the screaming of their companion having ceased, they remounted the trees, and before I could reload, every one of them had disappeared.
Insects.—Upwards of 7000 species of insects were found in the neighbourhood of Ega. I must confine myself in this place to a few remarks on the order Lepidoptera, and on the ants, several kinds of which, found chiefly on the Upper Amazons, exhibit the most extraordinary instincts.
I found about 550 distinct species of butterflies at Ega. Those who know a little of Entomology will be able to form some idea of the riches of the place in this department, when I mention that eighteen species of true Papilio (the swallow-tail genus) were found within ten minutes’ walk of my house. No fact could speak more plainly for the surpassing exuberance of the vegetation, the varied nature of the land, the perennial warmth and humidity of the climate. But no description can convey an adequate notion of the beauty and diversity in form and colour of this class of insects in the neighbourhood of Ega. I paid special attention to them, having found that this tribe was better adapted than almost any other group of animals or plants to furnish facts in illustration of the modifications which all species undergo in nature, under changed local conditions. This accidental superiority is owing partly to the simplicity and distinctness of the specific character of the insects, and partly to the facility with which very copious series of specimens can be collected and placed side by side for comparison. The distinctness of the specific characters is due probably to the fact that all the superficial signs of change in the organisation are exaggerated, and made unusually plain by affecting the framework, shape, and colour of the wings, which, as many anatomists believe, are magnified extensions of the skin around the breathing orifices of the thorax of the insects. These expansions are clothed with minute feathers or scales, coloured in regular patterns, which vary in accordance with the slightest change in the conditions to which the species are exposed. It may be said, therefore, that on these expanded membranes Nature writes, as on a tablet, the story of the modifications of species, so truly do all changes of the organisation register themselves thereon. Moreover, the same colour-patterns of the wings generally show, with great regularity, the degrees of blood-relationship of the species. As the laws of Nature must be the same for all beings, the conclusions furnished by this group of insects must be applicable to the whole organic world; therefore, the study of butterflies—creatures selected as the types of airiness and frivolity—instead of being despised, will some day be valued as one of the most important branches of Biological science.
Before proceeding to describe the ants, a few remarks may be made on the singular cases and cocoons woven by the caterpillars of certain moths found at Ega. The first that may be mentioned is one of the most beautiful examples of insect workmanship I ever saw. It is a cocoon, about the size of a sparrow’s egg, woven by a caterpillar in broad meshes of either buff or rose-coloured silk, and is frequently seen in the narrow alleys of the forest, suspended from the extreme tip of an outstanding leaf by a strong silken thread five or six inches in length. It forms a very conspicuous object, hanging thus in mid-air. The glossy threads with which it is knitted are stout, and the structure is therefore not liable to be torn by the beaks of insectivorous birds, whilst its pendulous position makes it doubly secure against their attacks, the apparatus giving way when they peck at it. There is a small orifice at each end of the egg-shaped bag, to admit of the escape of the moth when it changes from the little chrysalis which sleeps tranquilly in its airy cage. The moth is of a dull slatey colour, and belongs to the Lithosiide group of the silk-worm family (Bombycidæ). When the caterpillar begins its work, it lets itself down from the tip of the leaf which it has chosen by spinning a thread of silk, the thickness of which it slowly increases as it descends. Having given the proper length to the cord, it proceeds to weave its elegant bag, placing itself in the centre and spinning rings of silk at regular intervals, connecting them at the same time by means of cross threads; so that the whole, when finished, forms a loose web, with quadrangular meshes of nearly equal size throughout. The task occupies about four days: when finished, the enclosed caterpillar becomes sluggish, its skin shrivels and cracks, and there then remains a motionless chrysalis of narrow shape, leaning against the sides of its silken cage.