Far-away in the forest a singularly loud and clear note, like the sound of a bell, is heard; mile after mile, and still the same strange note reaches the ear. A single toll; then a
pause for a minute, then a pause again, then a toll, and again a pause; then for six or eight minutes no toll is heard; then another comes strangely and solemnly amid the tall columns and, fretted arches of the sylvan temple. Sometimes of a morning, and sometimes in the evening, and even when the meridian sun has silenced all the other songsters of the grove, that strange toll is heard. At length, high up on the dried top of an aged maura, a snow-white bird may be seen, no larger than a pigeon; and yet it is the creature who is uttering those strange sounds. It is another species of the cotinga—the well-known campanero, or bell-bird. On its forehead rises a spiral tube nearly three inches long, which is of jet-black, dotted all over with small white feathers. Having a communication with the palate, it enables the bird to utter these loud clear sounds. When thus employed, and filled with air, it looks like a spire; when empty, it becomes pendulous. Though, like most of its tribe, it is sometimes seen in flocks, it never feeds with other species of cotingas.
The witty Sydney Smith, remarking on the account Waterton gives of the campanero, observes: “This single bird then has a voice of more power than the belfry of a cathedral ringing for a new dean. It is impossible to contradict a gentleman who has been in the forests of Cayenne; but we are determined, as soon as a campanero is brought to England, to make him toll in a public place, and have the distance measured.”
Had the witty dean been aware of the fact—stated by the astronomer and aeronaut, Mr Glaisher—that a female voice is heard a mile further than that of the most hirsute and sturdy “tar,” he might have been less sceptical of the powers of the little cotinga to make itself heard for the distance of three miles through the pure and calm air of the tropics.
The Umbrella, or Fife-Bird.
In the yearly submerged gapo forests and the plains of the Upper Amazon, a singularly deep and long-sustained flute-like sound is often heard. It might be supposed that it was produced by the pan-pipes used by the natives of that region. It is, however, the note of a bird, named by the Indians uira mimbeu, or fife-bird, from the peculiar tone of its voice. It is, from the ornament on its head—consisting of a crest, with long curved hairy feathers, having long bare quills; which, when raised, spread themselves out in the form of a fringed
sunshade over the head—called the umbrella-bird (Cephalopterus ornatus). It resembles in size and colour the common crow. In addition to this umbrella-like ornament on its head, it has what may be called a pelerine suspended from the neck, formed by a thick fan of glossy steel-blue feathers which grow on a long fleshy lobe or excrescence. This lobe is connected with an unusual development of the trachea and vocal organs, undoubtedly assisting the bird to utter its strange note. While singing, it draws itself up on the bough, spreads widely out the umbrella-formed crest, waves its glossy breast lappet, and then, in giving vent to its loud, piping note, bows its head slowly forward.
The female has only the rudiments of a crest and lappet, and is of a much duller colour than the male.