“The carranchas, together with the chimango, constantly attend in numbers the estancias and slaughtering-houses. If an animal dies on the plain, the gallinazo commences the feast, and then the two species of Polyborus pick the bones clean. These birds, although thus commonly feeding together, are far from being friendly. When the carrancha is quietly seated on the branch of a tree or on the ground, the chimango often continues for a long time flying backward and forward, up and down, in a semicircle, trying each time at the bottom of the curve to strike its larger relative. Although the carranchas frequently assemble in numbers, they are not gregarious; for in desert places they may be seen solitary, or more commonly in pairs.
“The carranchas are said to be very crafty, and to steal great numbers of eggs. They attempt, also, together with the chimango, to pick off the scabs from the sore backs of horses and mules. The poor animal, on the one hand, with its ears down and its back arched, and, on the other hand, the hovering bird, eyeing at the distance of a yard the disgusting morsel, form a picture, which has been described by Captain Head with his own peculiar spirit and accuracy. These false eagles rarely kill any living bird or animal; and their vulture-like, necrophagous habits are very evident to any one who has fallen asleep on the desolate plains of Patagonia, for when he wakes he will see, on each surrounding hillock, one of these birds patiently watching him with an evil eye; it is a feature in the landscape of these countries, which will be recognized by every one who has wandered over them. If a party of men go out hunting with dogs and horses, they will be accompanied during the day by several of these attendants. After feeding, the uncovered craw protrudes; at such times, and indeed, generally, the carrancha is an inactive, tame, and cowardly bird. Its flight is heavy and slow, like that of an English rook. It seldom soars; but I have twice seen one at a great height gliding through the air with great ease. It runs, (in contradistinction to hopping,) but not quite so quickly as some of its congeners. At times the carrancha is noisy, but is not generally so; its cry is loud, very harsh and peculiar, and may be likened to the sound of the Spanish guttural g, followed by a rough double r r; when uttering this cry, it elevates its head higher and higher, till at last, with its beak wide open, the crown almost touches the lower part of the head. This fact, which has been doubted, is quite true.”
These birds are, however, a great blessing to the inhabitants of the Llanos, who are indebted to them, not only for the destruction of vast numbers of snakes and other reptiles, but for the service they render conjointly with the vultures in consuming the offal near houses. They seek their food both in dry lands and amidst the swampy borders of rivers; on the one they find serpents and lizards in abundance; in the other terrapins, frogs and small crocodiles. They are peculiar in always killing their prey before commencing to devour it. If the caricari meet with a serpent or young crocodile large enough to oppose a long resistance, he approaches it sideways, shielded by one of his wings spread out, and striking his prey near the head with his bill, retires to a short distance to watch the result. A second blow is usually fatal, upon which, seizing his victim in his claws, he tears it with his bill. The sluggish tortoises and terrapins are easy prey for the caricari; these he renders helpless by turning them upon their backs, then with his powerful bill tears out the entrails.
Singing birds are of great numbers and varieties in the Llanos; these are mostly of the oriole species, all of which seem to delight in the vicinity of man. They usually select some tree near the house, and from its slender topmost branches, weave their hanging nests beyond reach of mischievous boys and monkeys. One of these songsters, the gonzal, had his nest close by the ropes of my hammock, where every morning before sunrise he awakened me by his sweetly plaintive notes; and so fascinated was I by this charming neighbor, that I always remained long after the reveille, listening to his delicious music.
There is another closely allied species, far superior to this or any other bird of the kind with which I am acquainted. It is the troupial, whose powerful notes can only be likened to strains of the violin. It is easily domesticated in houses, and learns readily any air from hearing it whistled. I have one of these birds at home (in New York) which sings the Cachuca, Yankee Doodle, and various other tunes, besides distinctly whistling the name of a person. Its predominant colors are rich orange and shining black, with white spots on the wings and bill in beautiful contrast. It is a dangerous pet, however, if at large in a house, attacking strangers furiously, and always aiming at the eyes.
The arrendajo, or mocking-oriole, is perhaps the most extraordinary of its kind, on account of its imitative proclivities, mimicking every sound with such exactness, that he goes by the name of mocking-bird among the colonists of Demerara; according to Waterton, “His own song is sweet, but very short. If a toucan be yelping in the neighborhood, he drops it, and imitates him. Then he will amuse his protector with the cries of the different species of woodpecker, and when the sheep bleat he will distinctly answer them. Then comes his own song again; and if a puppy dog or a guinea fowl interrupt him, he takes them off admirably, and by his different gestures during the time, you would conclude that he enjoys the sport.”
The arrendajo is, besides, a beautiful bird, and considered by ornithologists a model of symmetry; his predominant color is a glossy black, with the exception of his belly, rump and half the tail, which are of a bright yellow. On each wing also he has a spot of the same color. His beak is tinged of a delicate shade of lemon, while his eyes are sky blue, the pupil being a deeper shade of the same.
