In the Wilds of South America

by Leo E. Miller

Not all the birds inhabiting the forests at Alto Bonito are inconspicuously colored, however. There are gorgeous little tanagers, humming-birds, toucans, and trogons. The latter, especially, are creatures of such exquisite beauty that they seem to belong to a world more ethereal than our own; their brilliant scarlet or yellow breasts resemble a flower of dazzling color, for which the shimmering, metallic wing-coverts and back provide a resplendent setting. The bird is as fragile as it is beautiful, and was evidently not intended to be defiled by the touch of mortal hands. If a specimen is shot, many of the feathers are lost before the bird reaches the ground, and at the impact of the ground many more are shed. The skin is so delicate that it takes an expert to remove it, and even then the bird is the despair of field-naturalist and taxidermist alike.

There was also a splendid representation of the parrot family, ranging from noisy little parrakeets to huge, green amazons. This reminded me of an interesting provision of nature whereby three families of birds frequently found in the same locality are able to obtain their sustenance. They are the parrots, trogons, and toucans, all of which feed upon fruit, each seeming to secure its food in a different manner. The zygodactyl feet of parrots enable them to climb out to the tip of fruit-laden branches and to cling to them in any position while feeding; toucans, endowed with an enormously elongated bill are able to reach a long distance for a coveted morsel, which is grasped between the tip of the mandibles and tossed back with an upward jerk of the head, to be swallowed; a trogon has a very short beak and neck, and the delicate feet are not adapted to climbing, but the wings of the bird are so constructed as to enable it to hover, from which position the fruit it desires may be snapped off the stem, when the bird returns to its perch to devour it.

One day our host’s son, aged thirteen, undertook to guide me to a distant part of the forest, where he said a large herd of peccaries had their feeding-ground. At first we passed through a part of the country well known to me, as I had taken a number of hunting excursions over the same ground; then we ascended a steep slope and, reaching the top, began to explore a vast stretch of heavy woods but rarely visited by any one. Although we had come for the express purpose of hunting peccaries, there were so many rare prizes on all sides that it was impossible to adhere strictly to our first intention; the temptation to add new treasures to our collection proved too great. Dainty little pigmy squirrels played in the top of the palms, or clung like lichens to the tree-trunks.

Some of the trees bore ripe fruit, and to them many animals came which are hard or even impossible to find under other conditions, thus making an ideal spot for the naturalist. A few seeds of the alligator-pear cast away by a hunter years before had taken root and grown into good-sized trees; the fruit dropped to the ground as it matured, attracting agoutis, which collected, apparently from some distance, to feed on the rich morsels. Other trees were laden with small berries. Although there was no sound to indicate the presence of a living thing, we usually discovered that first impressions were deceptive. If we waited a short time, a gentle patter on the leaves at our feet rewarded our patience; and then a close scrutiny of the leafy vault revealed silent, dark forms carefully moving among the tops of the branches and reaching out to pick the fruit upon which they were feeding. Gradually the shadowy forms assumed the shape of toucans, parrots, or macaws; the latter two birds are very wasteful and drop far more food than they eat.

The presence of an ant army is invariably advertised by the sharp chirp of the ant-wrens attending it. We encountered one, and spent an exciting half-hour securing two species of ant-birds, one black with white shoulders (Myrmelastes), and the other of a brown color with a white line running through the centre of the underparts (Anoplops); they had been feeding on beetles and spiders, and examination of the stomach contents revealed also a few ants. After shooting a bird it was necessary to enter into the thick of the voracious insects to hunt for it; but before the trophy could be recovered swarms of ants had climbed up our legs and clung with a bulldog grip.

Occasionally we saw a flock of manakins—brilliant little sprites of the forest, always found in the densest thickets. Some are black with golden heads; others, also black, have yellow breasts and long tufts of feathers on the throat, giving the bird a comical, bearded appearance; a third species had a vivid scarlet crest. The males only are brightly colored; the females are green.

There were signs of peccaries in abundance, but the constant shooting had frightened them away; so after inspecting an ancient Indian tomb consisting of a pile of carefully placed stones, overgrown with creepers, we started for home. Instead of retracing our steps over the many miles we had come, we followed a narrow gorge which we knew must lead to the Rio Sucio. Progress was slow and difficult, for the brook descended in a series of falls, and the rocks were covered with moss and were slippery; however, having started via this route, it was impossible to retrace our steps.

There was little of interest along the course of the treacherous little stream; but we discovered nests of a barred black-and-white wren (Thryophilus) swinging gayly above the water. The basket-shaped structures had been placed in the wildest, darkest spots, and each contained a single young bird, dozing peacefully in the entrance opening, lulled to sleep, no doubt, by the semigloom and the sound of rushing water.

As we picked our way along slowly and painfully, frequently wading through water three feet deep, a dark, shadowy form lunged from the blackness of a cavern among the boulders and clung for an instant to the cuff of my hunting-coat; then it dropped to the ground, and slowly disappeared among the rocks. My companion, who was a few feet in advance, had just turned to make some comment, and it was not until his frantic shriek brought me back to earth that I fully realized what had occurred. A bushmaster, apparently four or five feet long had become exasperated at our close proximity, and aimed a deadly thrust at the disturber of its diurnal slumber. This habit of the snake is well known; by nature it is sluggish; one person may pass close by without arousing its anger, while to a second individual, immediately following, it will show resentment, although it may not strike; but a third may consider himself fortunate, indeed, if he does not draw the full measure of the reptile’s fury.

The exploration at Alto Bonito yielded such rich returns that we regretted the necessity of leaving; but a field-naturalist’s time is not unlimited, and presently we found ourselves riding across the parched Antioquian desert, en route to Medellin.