THE LONG-TAILED TROGON, OR QUESAL (Pharomacrus[280] mocinno).
This beautiful species is mentioned in Willughby’s Ornithology, which was published some two hundred years ago, in which book an appendix is devoted to such birds as the author suspected to be “fabulous;” and the Quetzaltototl of Hernandez was placed in this category, nor was it till the French traveller Delattre visited Guatemala, and published his account of the habits of the bird in 1843, that it was restored to its proper position as one of the most beautiful of the feathered tribe: it is now by no means rare in collections. The best account of the habits of this species—and, indeed, of any Trogon—is that given by Mr. Osbert Salvin, in his paper entitled “Quesal-shooting in Vera Paz,”[281] in Guatemala. He writes from his diary:—“Off to the mountains at last, with a fine day and a fair prospect of success. The road, after crossing the river, strikes off to the northward—a mountain track winding among the hills. Soon after entering the forest, a river crosses the path—a foaming torrent—a fall into which gives no hope of escape. A felled tree, one of the largest of the forest, forms the bridge, over which, slippery with moss and foam, we have to pass. For ourselves it is nothing; but I must say I tremble for the Indians, each of whom carries his 75 lbs. of cargo. In the worst and most slippery part, the foothold is somewhat improved by the tree being notched with a ‘machete;’ but still it is as dangerous a pass as I ever crossed. After half-an-hour’s delay, we reach the other bank. One ‘mozo’ only turned faint-hearted, and another carried his pack across. From the river the path becomes very precipitous, and we continue to climb till we reach the foot of a rock, where we find a deserted rancho, and take possession. A fire having been made to heat the pixtones, we dine, and afterwards start for the forest close by to look for Quesals. On entering, the path takes the unpleasant form of a succession of felled trees, which are slippery from recent rains, and render progress slow. My companions are ahead, and I am just balancing myself along the last trunk, when Filipe comes back to say that they have heard a Quesal. Of course, being especially anxious to watch as well as to shoot one of these birds myself, I immediately hurry to the spot. I sit down upon my wide-awake in most approved style close to Cipriano, who is calling the bird, and wait, all eyes and ears, for the result. I have not to wait long. A distant clattering note indicates that the bird is on the wing. He settles—a splendid male—on a bough of a tree, not seventy yards from where we are hidden. Cipriano wants to creep up to within shot, but I keep him back, wishing to risk the chance of losing a specimen rather than miss such an opportunity of seeing the bird in its living state, and of watching its movements. It sits almost motionless on its perch, the body remaining in the same position, the head only moving slowly from side to side. The tail does not hang quite perpendicularly, the angle between the true tail and the vertical being perhaps as much as fifteen or twenty degrees. The tail is occasionally jerked open and closed again, and now and then slightly raised, causing the long tail-coverts to vibrate gracefully. I have not seen all. A ripe fruit catches the Quesal’s eye, and he darts from his perch, hovers for a moment, plucks the berry, and returns to his former position. This is done with a degree of elegance that defies description. The remark has often been made by persons looking at stuffed Humming-birds, ‘What lovely little things these must look in life, when they are flying about!’ But they do not. Place a Humming-bird twenty yards from you, and what do you see of its colours, except in the most favourable position and light? This is not the case with the Quesal. The rich metallic green of the head, back, and tail-coverts reflects its colour in every position, whilst the deep scarlet of the breast and the white of the tail show vividly at a distance, and contrast with the principal colour of the body. The living Quesal strikes the eye by its colour at once. It stands unequalled for splendour among birds of the New World, and is hardly surpassed among those of the Old. Such are my reflections, when a low whistle from Cipriano calls the bird nearer, and a moment afterwards it is in my hand—the first Quesal I have seen and shot.
LONG-TAILED TROGON, OR QUESAL.
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LARGER IMAGE
“The cries of the Quesal are various. They consist principally of a low double note, ‘whe-oo, whe-oo,’ which the bird repeats, whistling it softly at first, and then gradually swelling it into a loud but not unmelodious cry. This is often succeeded by a long note, which begins low, and after swelling, dies away as it began. Both these notes can be easily imitated by the human voice. The bird’s other cries are harsh and discordant. They are best imitated by doubling a pliant leaf over the first fingers, which must be held about two inches apart. The two edges of the leaf being then placed in the mouth, and the breath drawn in, the required sound is produced. Cipriano was an adept at imitating these cries, but I failed in producing them for want of practice. When searching for Quesals, the hunter whistles as he walks along, here and there sitting down and repeating the other notes. As soon as he hears a bird answering at a distance he stops, and imitates the bird’s cries until it has approached near enough to enable him either to shoot it from where he stands, or to creep up to within shot. The female generally flies up first, and perches on a tree near the hunter, who takes no notice of her, but continues calling till the male, who usually quickly follows the female, appears. Should the male not show himself, the hunter will sometimes shoot the female. Thus it is that so large a proportion of males are shot. The flight of the Quesal is rapid and straight; the long tail-feathers, which never seem to be in his way, stream after him. The bird is never found except in forests composed of the highest trees, the lower branches of which (i.e., those at about two-thirds of the height of the tree from the ground) seem to be its favourite resort. Its food consists principally of fruit, but occasionally a caterpillar may be found in its stomach.”
The distinguishing character of this fine Trogon is the long tail of the male bird, which measures about three feet in length. The colour of the upper parts is golden green, as well as the throat and fore neck; the breast is bright scarlet, and is overshadowed by some beautiful drooping plumes, which spring from the shoulders, and hang gracefully over the wings; the outer tail-feathers are white, with black bases, and the bill is yellow. The female has a black bill, and is much smaller, and she does not possess the long tail and decorative plumes of the male.
THE TENTH FAMILY OF THE FISSIROSTRAL PICARIAN BIRDS.—THE NIGHTJARS, OR GOATSUCKERS (Caprimulgidæ).
