Argentinian Ornithology.
A
Descriptive Catalogue
OF THE
BIRDS OF ARGENTINA.

BY
P. L. SCLATER, M.A., Ph.D., F.R.S., Etc.

NOTES ON THEIR HABITS
BY
W. H. HUDSON, C.M.Z.S.,
FORMERLY OF BUENOS AIRES.

The present volume contains an account of the Passeres of the Argentine Republic, which, as at present known, number some 229 species. The second volume, which it is hoped will be ready in the course of next year, will be devoted to the history of the remaining Orders of Birds, and will also contain the Introduction and Index, and complete the work.

All the personal observations recorded in these pages are due to Mr. Hudson, while I am responsible for the arrangement, nomenclature, and scientific portions of the work.

I have to acknowledge with many thanks a donation of £40 from the Royal Society, which has enabled Mr. Hudson to devote a portion of his time to the compilation of his interesting notes.

P. L. S.

December 1, 1887.

As regards its Bird-life the Neotropical Region, which, according to the arrangement usually adopted, consists of America south of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec together with the West Indies1, may be most conveniently divided into six Subregions. These are:—

1. The Transpanamic Subregion, embracing the great Central-American Isthmus from Tehuantepec down to Panama.

2. The Antillean Subregion, containing the West-India Islands.

3. The Colombian Subregion, containing the South-American littoral and the adjacent Andean ranges in Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia.

4. The Amazonian Subregion, containing Guiana and the valleys of the Orinoco and Amazons and their confluents.

5. The Brazilian Subregion, containing the great wooded and campos districts of Southern Brazil and Paraguay.

6. The Patagonian Subregion, consisting of Antarctic America up to the Brazilian wood-districts and the highlands of Bolivia on the eastern side of the Andes, and apparently extending as far as the Gulf of Guayaquil on the west.

It is, of course, impossible to draw a precise line between these six Subregions, and any boundaries assigned to them can only be regarded as approximative; but it is obvious that nearly, if not quite, the whole of the Argentine Republic, the Avifauna of which we are now considering, comes within the limits of the Patagonian Subregion. It is possible that the birds of the Territory of Misiones and of some parts of Northern Corrientes may be more nearly akin to those of Brazil, but we may say generally that the Argentine Republic belongs to the Patagonian Subregion.

- xviii -As shown in the succeeding pages, the number of species of Birds as yet ascertained to be found within the Argentine Republic2 is about 430. We will now take the leading groups of the Neotropical Ornis, one after another, and consider the rôle they play in the Argentine Avifauna, so as to get some general ideas as to its peculiarities.

The subjoined Table contains in the first column the number of Neotropical species assigned to each of the 20 different Orders of Birds in the ‘Nomenclator Avium Neotropicalium.’ In the second column is given the corresponding number of Argentine species of each order according to the present work. The total number of Neotropical species will be seen to be about eight times as many as those of the Argentine Avifauna; so that where this average is exceeded in the individual orders the particular group may be considered to be over-represented, and where it is not reached to be under-represented in the Argentine Avifauna. This is of course a very rough-and-ready mode of calculation, because it assumes that every species has an equal area of distribution, which is not ordinarily the case; but it will serve to give us some general ideas on the subject. We will now proceed to consider the principal groups one after another, and to point out their comparative importance in the Argentine Avifauna.

The known Argentine Passeres, according to the present work, are 229 in number; those of the Neotropical Region, according to the ‘Nomenclator,’ are 1976; so that the species of Argentine Passeres, according to the ratio which we have adopted, would be very little short of the average numbers. If, however, we divide the Passeres up into the three suborders of Oscines, Oligomyodæ, and Tracheophonæ, we shall find that the Oligomyodæ are rather in excess of the estimated average, while the species of the two other groups are deficient. This arises mainly from the large number of Tyrannidæ belonging to the Argentine Ornis. Not less than 63 species of this group have been already discovered within its limits. Besides Tyrants, other prevailing families of Passeres in the Argentine Avifauna are the Finches (Fringillidæ) and the Wood-hewers (Dendrocolaptidæ), both of which have 46 representatives in the Argentine Republic. Both these families are, however, well represented all over the Neotropical Region. But the Tapacolas (Pteroptochidæ) and the Plant-cutters (Phytotomidæ) are both - xix -of them families specially characteristic of the Patagonian Avifauna, and both of them are represented in the Argentine Republic. One other Passerine form is also worthy of special mention. The Dippers (Cinclidæ) are essentially an Arctic group diffused all over the Palæarctic and the Arctic Regions. It is singular, however, that this form should reoccur at higher elevations in the Neotropical Region. A Cinclus is found in the mountains of Colombia, another in the Andes of Peru, and a third has lately been discovered in the northern sierras of the Argentine Republic. As regards Passerine birds, therefore, which great order makes up more than one half of the Argentine Ornis, we may say that - xx - Finches, Tyrants, and Wood-hewers are remarkable for their abundance, Plant-cutters and Tapacolas for peculiarity of type, and Dippers as an instance of the occurrence of an Arctic form in Antarctic latitudes.

As regards the second order, Macrochires, the Argentine Avifauna is notably deficient on account of the comparative scarcity of Humming-birds. Although eleven species of this remarkable group have been met with within our limits, the great mass of the Trochilidæ, which are now known to number some 400 species, belong to the Tropics. The Swifts are also scantily represented by a single species. The Caprimulgidæ are comparatively more abundant, but slightly below the average in number of species.

The Argentine Woodpeckers enumerated in the present work are thirteen in number, but several of those are somewhat doubtful species, and others only occur in the extreme northern limits of the Republic. On the whole we may say that the Pici are decidedly deficient in Argentina.

Nine families of the fourth order, Coccyges, are included in the Neotropical Avifauna, but of these only five are represented in the Argentine Ornis—the Motmots, Todies, Jacamars, and Barbets being entirely wanting. The Trogons, Puff-birds, and Toucans are also essentially Tropical forms, and have but one or two representatives on the northern outskirts of the Republic; so that the Cuckoos and Kingfishers are the only two families of Coccyges which play any material rôle in the Argentine Ornis.

Of the order of Parrots it will be seen from our Table that 142 species are known as belonging to the Neotropical Region, and that only ten of these have been met with within our limits. Of these ten, moreover, several are either doubtful, or only occur on the northern outskirts of Argentina, so that Parrots must be held to be deficient in the Argentine Ornis. As is well known Parrots are mostly inhabitants of the Tropics, and it is quite an exception to the rule that several of these warmth-loving birds should extend into the cold latitudes of Patagonia and Chili. This, however, is paralleled in the Old World by the existence of Parrots in some of the Antarctic Islands south of New Zealand.

Of the Birds of Prey of the Argentine Republic, Diurnal and Nocturnal, it is not necessary to say much; both of these orders are rather in excess as regards the average number of species, the Accipitres especially so. The wide open pampas offer a fine field for Kites and Buzzards and their kind, and they are as numerous in individuals as in species in such favoured haunts.

- xxi -In the next order, Steganopodes, the Argentine Ornis seems to be very deficient. Out of the five families of this group which occur in the Neotropical Region, one only is yet known to us to be represented in the Argentine Ornis, and that by a single species. But when the sea-birds of the Argentine coast-land come to be better known, there is no doubt that several additions will be made to the list.

The next following order, Herodiones, is of much more importance in Argentine Ornithology, not less than 19 species of this group being already known to exist within our limits, out of a total of 44 Neotropical species. And amongst these we can pick out the little Variegated Bittern (Ardetta involucris) and the four species of Ibises as being highly characteristic members of the Argentine Ornis.

The tenth order, that of Anseres, or Waterfowl, commonly so-called, is also largely in excess as regards the number of species. Out of a total of 64 Anseres belonging to the Neotropical Regions, 23 are met with in the Argentine Republic. Moreover, the greater number of these are exclusively Antarctic species, restricted to the Patagonian Subregion. Amongst them we may specially call attention to the Black-necked Swan (Cygnus nigricollis), the Chiloe Wigeon (Mareca sibilatrix), and the Rosy-billed Duck (Metopiana peposaca) as highly characteristic and ornamental species.

Proceeding to the next order, that of the Pigeons (Columbæ), we find the number of Argentine species to be slightly below the average. Several fine Pigeons and Doves are well-known inhabitants of the Republic, but the Columbine order is not a prominent one within our limits.

The Gallinaceous birds of the Neotropical Region are about ninety in number, the greater part of these belonging to the Curassows, Cracidæ, a family specially adapted for habitation in the extensive forests of the New World. Four species of Cracidæ have been met with in the forest-region of Northern Argentina; but the Gallinaceous group as a whole must be held to be deficient in this part of South America, the place in Nature which these birds fill in other regions being occupied here by the more lowly organized Tinamous, of which we shall speak further on.

The Geranomorphæ of the Argentine Republic are much in excess as regards the number of species. This arises mainly from the abundant supply of Rails and Crakes which Nature has provided for the more swampy districts of the pampas, and to the presence of no less than three- xxii - distinct species of Coots (Fulica), which appear to be generally abundant on the lakes and pools. Nor must we forget to mention as of special interest the two Cariamas which belong to this order, and which are the only representatives of a family of very peculiar structure. One of the two Cariamas is, so far as we know, absolutely confined to the Northern provinces of the Argentine Republic; the second is a bird of the campos of Southern Brazil, which only just comes within our limits.

The Snipes and Plovers and their allies, constituting the Order Limicolæ, are again in excess in the Argentine Avifauna, not less than 25 out of a known total of 73 Neotropical species having been already met with within our limits. A large proportion, however, of these birds are merely winter visitors, and breed only in the far north. On the other hand, the Slender-billed Plover (Oreophilus ruficollis) and the Winter Plover (Eudromias modesta) are species highly characteristic of the Patagonian subregion, and come to the neighbourhood of Buenos Ayres from a contrary direction. Another especially characteristic Patagonian family of this order is the Thinocoridæ or Seed-Snipes, of which two species occur within our limits.

Of the Gaviæ, or Gulls and Terns, of the Argentine Republic, nine species are already known out of a total of 53 Neotropical members of the group, and additions no doubt will be made to the list when the coast-birds of La Plata come to be better known.

The seventeenth order of Birds, Pygopodes, is represented in the Argentine Ornis by five species of Grebes. Two of these are widely diffused over all America, the remaining three are Antarctic species belonging to the Patagonian subregion. As only nine species of this groups are known to occur in the whole Neotropical Region, the Pygopodes are highly in excess in the Argentine Avifauna.

The Impennes, or Penguins, which form the eighteenth order of birds, according to the arrangement of the ‘Nomenclator,’ are a group specially characteristic of high Antarctic latitudes. Nine species of Penguins occur on the coasts of Antarctic America, but one of these only is as yet known to reach so far north as our limits.

We now come to the Crypturi or Tinamous, an order of birds commonly supposed to be Gallinaceous, and generally confounded with “Partridges” and “Pheasants” in the vernacular. They are, however, in some points of essential structure more nearly allied to the Struthiones, although they doubtless fill the same place in the economy of Neotropical Nature as the true Gallinaceous birds in other lands. The- xxiii - Tinamous are spread all over the Neotropical Region and number about 36 species. Eight of these occur within the Argentine Republic; and amongst them we may pick out the Martineta Tinamou (Calodromas elegans) and the three species of the genus Nothura as being specially characteristic Patagonian types.

Lastly, we come to the final order of the Neotropical Ornis in the shape of the Rheas, or the American representatives of the Ostrich-type of bird-life. The Rhea is, above all other birds, a most characteristic representative of the Avifauna of the Patagonian subregion. It is true that it ranges far north throughout the campos of Inner Brazil, where the outlying members have become developed into an almost distinct species or subspecies, Rhea americana macrorhyncha. But south of the Rio Negro of Patagonia another very distinct type of Rhea, almost subgenerically different, is met with and extends thence to the Straits of Magellan. Rhea has also been lately ascertained to occur on the western side of the Andes in the Chilian province of Tarapaco; so that this fine form of bird-life is diffused nearly over the entire Patagonian subregion, and is well entitled to be termed one of the most characteristic features of the Patagonian Avifauna.

In conclusion, therefore, we may sum up our present knowledge of the Argentine Avifauna somewhat as follows:—

The Argentine Avifauna comprises 434 species of birds, referable to 54 families and genera.

All the twenty Orders of the Neotropical Avifauna have representatives within its boundaries, except the Opisthocomi or Hoatzins, which are restricted to the Amazonian subregion.

The most numerous families of the Argentine Avifauna are, among the Passeres, the Finches with 46 species, the Tyrants with 63 species, and the Wood-hewers with 46 species. Among the remaining Orders, the Diurnal Birds of Prey with 19 species, the Waterfowl with 22 species, the Rails with 13 species, the Snipes with 15 species, and the Tinamous with 8 species, are likewise well represented.

Genera characteristic and proportionately numerous in species in the Argentine Avifauna are Poospiza and Phrygilus among the Finches, Tænioptera and Cnipolegus among the Tyrants, Synallaxis among the Wood-hewers, Fulica among the Rails, and Nothura among the Tinamous. Less numerous in species, but highly characteristic forms of the Argentine Ornis, are Thinocorus, Rhynchotis, and Rhea.

- xxiv -The following ten genera, mostly monotypic, are, so far as we know at present, restricted to the limits of the Argentine Avifauna or its immediate confines:—Donacospiza and Saltatricula (Fringillidæ); Coryphistera, Anumbius, Limnornis, and Drymornis (Dendrocolaptidæ); Rhinocrypta, with two species (Pteroptochidæ); Spiziapteryx (Falconidæ); Chunga (Cariamidæ); and Calodromas (Tinamidæ).

Eight species of the almost cosmopolitan Thrush-family are known to occur in the Argentine Republic. Of these, five belong to the widely-spread genus Turdus, and are closely similar in structure to our European Thrushes. The remaining three are Mock-birds (Miminæ)—a group restricted to the New World, and sometimes considered more nearly allied to the Wrens. They are remarkable as splendid songsters. Burmeister includes in his list a fourth species of Mimus (M. thenca), as found in the Mendoza district; but there may be some error in this, as M. thenca is only known to us from Chili west of the Andes.

Hab. Eastern South America, from Cayenne to Buenos Ayres.

- 2 -The Dusky Thrush is widely distributed in South America, and ranges as far south as Buenos Ayres, where it is quite common in the woods along the Plata river. It is a shy forest-bird; a fruit- and insect-eater; abrupt in its motions; runs rapidly on the ground with beak elevated, and at intervals pauses and shakes its tail; pugnacious in temper; strong on the wing, its flight not being over the trees, but masked by their shadows. It can always be easily distinguished, even at a distance, from other species by its peculiar short, metallic chirp—a melodious sound indicating alarm or curiosity, and uttered before flight—in contrast to the harsh screams and chuckling notes of other Thrushes in this district.

Whether it is a fine singer or not within the tropics I am unable to say, its vocal powers having received no attention from the naturalists who have observed it. With us in the temperate climate of Buenos Ayres, where it commences to sing in September, it has the finest song of any bird I know, excepting only Mimus triurus. Like the English Song-Thrush, but unlike its near neighbours the Red-bellied Thrush and the Magellanic Thrush, it perches on the summit of a tree to sing. Its song is, however, utterly unlike that of the English bird, which is so fragmentary, and, as Mr. Barrows describes it, made up of “vocal attitudes and poses.” The two birds differ also in voice as much as in manner. The strains of the Dusky Thrush are poured forth in a continuous stream, with all the hurry and freedom of the Sky-Lark’s song; but though so rapidly uttered, every note is distinct and clear, and the voice singularly sweet and far-reaching. At intervals in the song there recurs a two-syllabled note twice repeated, unlike in sound any other bird-music I have heard, for it is purely metallic, and its joyous bell-like “te-ling te-ling” always comes like a delightful surprise to the listener, being in strange contrast with the prevailing tone.

The song is altogether a very fine one, its peculiar charm being that it seems to combine two opposite qualities of bird-music, plaintiveness and joyousness, in some indefinable manner.

I have never heard this species sing in a cage or anywhere near a human habitation; and it is probably owing to its recluse habits that its excellent song has not been hitherto noticed. Azara perhaps mistook the song of this species for that of Turdus rufiventris, a very inferior vocalist.

The nest is made in the centre of a thick bush or tree six or eight feet above the ground, and is a deep elaborate structure, plastered inside with mud, and lined with soft dry grass. The eggs are four in number, oblong; the ground-colour light blue, abundantly marked with reddish-brown spots.

- 3 -This Thrush has, I believe, a partial migration in Buenos Ayres. In the autumn and winter I have frequently observed it in localities where it is never seen in summer.

Hab. S.E. Brazil, Paraguay, Uruguay, and La Plata.

The Red-bellied Thrush, distinguished from the species just described by its larger size and the bright rufous colour of its under plumage, is common everywhere in the Plata region, and does not appear to be migratory. It is a noisy, strong-winged, quarrelsome bird, closely resembling the Dusky Thrush in its manners. It inhabits forests, runs on the ground in search of food, and when approached darts away with loud chuckling notes, flying close to the ground. These birds are also often seen pursuing each other through the trees with loud harsh screams.

The song has a faint resemblance to that of the English Song-Thrush, being composed of a variety of notes uttered in the same disconnected manner, with frequent pauses; but it is, both in sweetness and strength, inferior to that of the English bird. As a rule this Thrush sings concealed in a thick bush or tree.

The nest is deep, well made, plastered inside with mud, and concealed in the centre of a large bush or low tree. The eggs are four, pale blue in colour, and thickly spotted with brown.

Hab. Patagonia and Chili.

This Thrush, which I met with on the Rio Negro of Patagonia, so closely approximates to T. rufiventris in colour, language, and habits, that the casual observer finds it difficult to distinguish one from the other. Its nest and eggs are also precisely like those of its northern representative. The song is, however, much poorer, and reminds one of the first attempts of a young bird. That a member of so melodious a family should have so inferior a song I attribute to the fact that Thrushes (unlike the songsters of other genera) sing only in the warm season and when the air is calm. In the southern portion of the South-American continent violent winds prevail in summer, so that this southern Thrush sings perhaps less frequently than any other song-bird, and appears to be losing the faculty of song altogether.

Hab. Bolivia and Northern La Plata.

“I have noticed this bird in the provinces of Mendoza, San Juan, San Luis, Cordova, and Catamarca, where it is much esteemed as a cage-bird on account of its beautiful whistle. In Mendoza it goes by the name of ‘Zorsal,’ in Catamarca and Cordova by that of ‘Merlo,’ and in Andalgala (Catamarca province) ‘Chocoyno.’”—White, l. s. c.

“Very common at Mendoza, Cordova, and Tucuman, and met with among the shady trees of the promenades: has a better song than our Blackbird, which is heard at a distance, especially in the evening. Called ‘Crispin’ in Tucuman.”—Burm. l. s. c.

Hab. Peru, Bolivia, and Northern La Plata.

Met with by Dr. A. Döring and Herr Schulz on the Sierra of Cordova.

Hab. Paraguay, Uruguay, and Argentine Republic.

Azara has not failed to remark that it would be well to find a more appropriate name for this species, which was absurdly called “Calandria” (i. e. Sky-Lark) by the early colonists of the Plata. Use is, however, too strong to be easily set aside, and the name is now familiar to everyone in the Argentine Province. Moreover, by a curious irony of fate, the Spanish naturalist himself, by employing this unsuitable name in his ‘Apuntamientos,’ even while protesting against it, has been the cause of its introduction into scientific nomenclature.

It would be impossible to improve on the account Azara gives of the bird’s appearance and manners. The prevailing colour of the plumage is grey, the irides are deep green, the beak black, slender, and curved. The tail is long, jerked and elevated when the bird is at rest, spread open and depressed in flight. The Calandria’s movements are measured and dignified, its flight low and never extends far, the bird usually passing from one tree to another in a long graceful curve. It goes alone or with its mate only; feeds chiefly on the ground; does not penetrate into deep forests, nor is it seen on the treeless plains. It frequents the borders of woods and open grounds abounding in isolated shrubs and trees; is fond of coming about houses, and invariably perches itself on the most conspicuous places. It sings chiefly in spring, and its really wonderful vocal powers have made it one of our best-known and most-admired songsters. To sing it usually places- 6 - itself on the summit of a bush or tree, and occasionally, as if carried away by excitement, it darts upwards three or four yards into the air, and then drops back on to its perch. So varied are its notes, and so frequently suggestive of the language of other species, that the listener finds himself continually asking whether the Calandria is really an original singer or merely a cunning plagiarist, able to steal scraps of fifty different melodies and to blend them in some sort into one complete composition. As a whole the song is in character utterly unlike that of any other bird (birds of the Mimus genus, of course, excepted), for the same notes are never repeated twice in the same order; and though the Calandria has many favourite notes, he is able to vary every one of them a hundred ways. Sometimes the whole song seems to be made up of imitations of other singers, with slight variations—and not of singers only, for now there will be clear flute-like notes, only to be succeeded by others reedy and querulous as the hunger-calls of a young Finch; then there will be pretty flourishes or Thrush-like phrases, and afterwards screams, as of a frightened Swallow hurrying through the sky to announce the approach of a Falcon; or perhaps piteous outcries, as of a chicken in the clutches of a Kite.

Nevertheless Azara says truly that the Calandria does not mock or mimic the songs of other birds; for though the style and intonation of a score of different singers, chatterers, and screamers are reproduced by him, one can never catch a song, or even a portion of a song, of which he is able to say that it is absolutely like that of any other species. This much, however, can be said of the Calandria: he has a passion for endless variety in singing, a capacity for varying his tones to almost any extent, and a facility for catching the notes of other birds, which, in the Virginian Mocking-bird of North, and in the White-banded Mocking-bird of South America, has been developed into that marvellous faculty these two species possess of faithfully imitating the songs of all other birds. The two species I have just named, while mockers of the songs of other birds, also retain their own original music—their “natural song,” as an American ornithologist calls it.

The Calandria makes its nest in the middle of a large bush or low thorn-tree standing by itself; it is deep, like the nest of a Thrush in form, built of sticks, thorns, and grass, and lined with thistle-down or some other soft material. The eggs are four or five, pale blue, and thickly marked with reddish-brown spots.

When the nest is approached the parent birds demonstrate their anxiety by uttering loud harsh angry notes.

It is generally believed that the Calandria will not live in captivity. I have, however, seen a few individuals in cages, but they never sang.

Hab. Northern Patagonia.

The Patagonian Mocking-bird, which I met with during my sojourn on the Rio Negro of Patagonia in 1871, closely resembles the species just described, but is smaller, the plumage is of a darker grey, and the irides are also of a darker green. It is a common bird, resident, lives alone or with its mate, feeds on insects and berries, and in its manner of flight and habits is like Mimus modulator. The nest is made in the centre of a bush of thorns and sticks, and lined with dry grass, cow-hair, or other soft material; and the eggs are four in number, bluntly pointed, and thickly marked with dark flesh-coloured spots. When the nest is approached the parent birds come close to the intruder, often perching within a yard of his head, but without uttering any sound, differing in this respect from M. modulator.

The song of the Patagonian bird is in character like that of the northern species, the variety of its notes being apparently infinite; there are, however, some differences worth mentioning. The singing of the Patagonian species is perhaps inferior, his voice being less powerful, while his mellow and clear notes are constantly mingled with shrill ones, resembling the cries of some of the Dendrocolaptine birds. While incapable of notes so loud or so harsh as those of the northern bird, or of changes so wild and sudden, he possesses even a greater variety of soft notes. Day after day for many months I have heard them singing, yet never once listened to them for any length of time without hearing some note or phrase I had never heard before. The remarks I have made concerning the Calandria’s mocking-faculties also apply to this bird: but though he does not actually repeat the notes and songs of other species, he certainly does mock the notes of individuals of his own species; for it must be borne in mind that no two individuals sing quite alike, and that the same bird constantly introduces new notes into his song, and never repeats his notes in the same order. I have often observed that when a bird, while singing, emits a few of these new notes, he seems- 8 - surprised and delighted with them; for, after a silent pause, he repeats them again and again a vast number of times, as if to impress them on his memory. When he once more resumes his varied singing, for hours, and sometimes for days, the expression he has discovered is still a favourite one, and recurs with the greatest frequency. But this is not all. If the new note or phrase happens to be a very striking one, it immediately takes the fancy of all the other birds within hearing, and often in a small thicket there will be a dozen or twenty birds near together, each sitting perched on the summit of his own bush. After the new wonderful note has been sounded they all become silent and attentive, reminding one in their manner of a caged Parrot listening to a sound it is trying to learn. Presently they learn it, and are as pleased with its acquisition as if they had discovered it themselves, repeating it incessantly. I noticed this curious habit of the bird many times, and on one occasion I found that for three entire days all the birds in a small thicket I used to visit every day did nothing but repeat incessantly two or three singular notes which they had borrowed from one of their number. The constant repetition of this one sound had a strongly irritating effect on me; but a day or two later they had apparently got tired of it themselves, and had resumed their usual varied singing.

This bird usually sits still upon the summit of a bush when singing, and its music is heard in all seasons and in all weathers from dawn till after dark: as a rule it sings in a leisurely unexcited manner, remaining silent for some time after every five or six or a dozen notes, and apparently listening to his brother-performers. These snatches of melody often seem like a prelude or promise of something better coming; there is often in them such exquisite sweetness and so much variety that the hearer is ever wishing for a fuller measure, and still the bird opens his bill to delight and disappoint him, as if not yet ready to display his whole power.

Hab. Paraguay, Argentine Republic, and Bolivia.

Azara first met with this king of the Mocking-birds in Paraguay a century ago; he named it “Calandria de las tres colas,” and described the plumage accurately, but was, I think, mistaken about the colour of the eye, which is orange-red and not olive-green. He says that it is a rare species, possessing no melodious notes, which proves at once that he never heard it sing. D’Orbigny obtained it in Bolivia, Bridges in Mendoza, and more recently it his been found by collectors in various parts of the Argentine country, even in Buenos Ayres, where, however, it is probably only an occasional visitor. But they have told us nothing of its song and of its miraculous mocking-powers. For my part I can think of no other way to describe the surpassing excellence of its melody, which delights the soul beyond all other bird-music, than by saying that this bird is among song-birds like the diamond among stones, which in its many-coloured splendour represents and exceeds the special beauty of every other gem.

I met with this species on the Rio Negro in Patagonia: it was there called Calandria blanca, a name not strictly accurate, since the bird is not all white, but certainly better than Azara’s strange invention of “Lark with three tails.”

The bird was not common in Patagonia, and its only language was a very loud harsh startled note, resembling that of the Mimus calandria; but it was past the love-season when I first met with it, and the natives all assured me that it possessed a very wonderful song, surpassing the songs of all other birds; also that it had the faculty of imitating other species. In manners and appearance it struck me as being utterly unlike a Mimus; in its flight and in the conspicuous white and black of the wings and tail, it looked like a Tyrant of the Tænioptera group. It was extremely shy, had a swift, easy, powerful flight, and, when approached, would rise up high in the air and soar away to a great distance. In February it disappeared from the Rio Negro and did not return till the following October, after the arrival of all the other migrants. It was then that I had the rare good fortune to hear it sing, and I shall never forget the sensation I experienced when listening to its matchless melody.

While walking through a chañar-wood one bright morning, my attention was suddenly arrested by notes issuing from a thicket close by, and to which I listened in delighted astonishment, so vastly superior in melody, strength, and variety did they seem to all other bird-music. That it was the song of a Mimus did not occur to me; for while the- 10 - music came in a continuous stream, until I marvelled that the throat of any bird could sustain so powerful and varied a song for so long a time, it was never once degraded by the harsh cries, fantastical flights, and squealing buffooneries so frequently introduced by the Calandria, but every note was in harmony and uttered with a rapidity and joyous abandon no other bird is capable of, except, perhaps, the Sky-Lark; while the purity of the sounds gave to the whole performance something of the ethereal rapturous character of the Lark’s song when it comes to the listener from a great height in the air.

Presently this flow of exquisite unfamiliar music ceased, while I still remained standing amongst the trees, not daring to move for fear of scaring away the strange vocalist. After a short interval of silence I had a fresh surprise. From the very spot whence that torrent of melody had issued, burst out the shrill, confused, impetuous song of the small yellow-and-grey Patagonian Flycatcher (Stigmatura flavo-cinerea). It irritated me to hear this familiar and trivial song after the other, and I began to fear that my entertainer had flown away unobserved. But in another moment, from the same spot, came the mellow matin-song of the Diuca Finch, and this was quickly succeeded by the silvery bell-like trilling song of the Churinche, or little Scarlet Tyrant-bird. Then followed many other familiar notes and songs—the flute-like evening-call of the Crested Tinamou, the gay hurried twittering of the Black-headed Goldfinch, and the leisurely-uttered, delicious strains of the Yellow Cardinal, all repeated with miraculous fidelity. How much was my wonder and admiration increased by the discovery that my one sweet singer had produced all these diverse strains! The discovery was only made when he began to repeat songs of species that never visit Patagonia. I knew then that I was at last listening to the famed White Mocking-bird, just returned from his winter travels, and repeating in this southern region the notes he had acquired in subtropical forests a thousand miles away.

These imitations at length ceased, after which the sweet vocalist resumed his own matchless song once more. I ventured then to creep a little nearer, and at length caught sight of him not fifteen yards away. I then found that the pleasure of listening to its melody was greatly enhanced when I could at the same time see the bird, so carried away with rapture does he seem while singing, so many and so beautiful are the gestures and motions with which his notes are accompanied. He passes incessantly from bush to bush, scarcely alighting on their summits, and at times dropping down beneath the foliage; then, at intervals, soaring to a height of a hundred feet above the thicket, with a flight slow as that of a Heron, or mounting suddenly upwards with a wild, - 11 -hurried, zigzag motion; then slowly circling downwards, to sit with tail outspread and the broad glistening white wings expanded, or languidly waved up and down like the wings of some great butterfly—an object beautiful to see.

When I first heard this bird sing I felt convinced that no other feathered songster on the globe could compare with it; for besides the faculty of reproducing the songs of other species, which it possesses in common with the Virginian Mocking-bird, it has a song of its own, which I believed matchless; and in this belief I was confirmed when, shortly after hearing it, I visited England, and found of how much less account than this Patagonian bird, which no poet has ever praised, were the sweetest of the famed melodists of the Old World.

The Dippers, constituting the genus Cinclus and the family Cinclidæ, are sparingly distributed, principally in the Alpine Regions which contain clear and perennial streams, throughout the Palæarctic and Nearctic Regions. In the Neotropical Region they are represented by three species, one of which is found in the northern provinces of the Argentine Republic.

Hab. Northern Argentina.

A recent discovery of Herr Fritsch Schulz, who obtained specimens of it on the Cerro Vayo of Tucuman, where this species, like others of the genus, frequents the mountain-streams.

The peculiar genus Polioptila, which contains some twelve or thirteen species of small-sized American birds, ranging from the United States to the Argentine Republic, has been variously arranged by naturalists, but seems to be more nearly related to the African genus Stenostira than to any other known form. I therefore now place it with the Muscicapidæ, or Flycatchers, of which it is the only genus found in the New World.

Hab. Paraguay and Northern Argentina.

This little bird strongly resembles some species of that division of the Tyrannidæ which includes the genera Stigmatura, Serpophaga, and Anæretes; but the likeness, strange to say, is even more marked in habits and voice than in coloration and general appearance.

It is found in open thorny woods and thickets; and in Buenos Ayres seems to have a partial migration, as it is much more common in summer than in winter. At all times male and female are found together, and probably pair for life, like several of the species in the groups just mentioned. They are seen continually hopping about among the twigs in a leisurely deliberate manner, all the time emitting a variety of low short notes, as if conversing together; and at intervals they unite their voices in a burst of congratulatory notes, like those uttered by the small Tyrant-birds they resemble. They have no song. I have not found the nest, but Dr. Burmeister says that it is made in bushes, and that the eggs are white.

The Troglodytidæ, or Wren family, are of wide distribution, and are found alike under the tropics and in temperate latitudes. In South America nearly 100 species altogether are known to occur. Of these two are familiar inhabitants of the whole Argentine Republic, and a third, belonging to the water-loving genus Donacobius, is met with in the eastern provinces on the Paraná. A fourth species has been lately described from Tucuman.

Hab. Guiana, Amazonia, Brazil, Paraguay, and Northern Argentina.

The genus Donacobius contains two species somewhat intermediate between the Mock-birds and the large Wrens of the genus Campylorhynchus. The well-known Brazilian D. atricapillus extends through Paraguay, where Azara found it abundant, into Corrientes and the adjoining provinces of La Plata. It is met with among the reeds on lakes and streams.

Hab. South America.

- 14 -The common Argentine Wren is to all English residents the “House-Wren,” and is considered to be identical with the species familiar to them in their own country. It is a sprightly little bird, of a uniform brown colour and a cheerful melodious voice; a tireless hunter after small spiders and caterpillars in hedges, gardens, and outhouses, where it explores every dark hole and cranny, hopping briskly about with tail erect, and dropping frequent little curtsies; always prompt to scold an intruder with great emphasis; a great hater of cats.

It was my belief at one time that the Wren was one of the little birds a cat never could catch; but later on I discovered that this was a mistake. At my home on the pampas we once had a large yellow tom cat exceedingly dexterous in catching small birds; he did not, however, eat them himself, but used to bring them into the house for the other cats. Two or three times a day he would appear with a bird, which he would drop at the door, then utter a loud mew very well understood by the other cats, for they would all fly to the spot in great haste, and the first to arrive would get the bird. At one time I noticed that he brought in a Wren almost every day, and, curious to know how he managed to capture so clever a bird, I watched him. His method was to go out into the grounds frequented by Wrens, and seat himself conspicuously amongst the weeds or bushes; and then, after the first burst of alarm had subsided amongst the small birds, one or two Wrens would always take on themselves the task of dislodging him, or, at all events, of making his position a very uncomfortable one. The cat would sit perfectly motionless, apparently not noticing them at all, and by-and-by this stolid demeanour would have its effect, and one of the Wrens, growing bolder, would extend his dashing little incursions to within a few inches of pussy’s demure face; then at last, swift as lightning, would come the stroke of a paw, and the little brown body would drop down with the merry brave little spirit gone from it.

The House-Wren is widely distributed in South America, from the tropical forests to the cold uplands of Patagonia, and, possessing a greater adaptiveness than most species, it inhabits every kind of country, moist or dry, and is as much at home on lofty mountains and stony places as in the everglades of the Plata, where it frequents the reed-beds and damp forests. About houses they are always to be found; and though the traveller on the desert pampas might easily imagine that there are no Wrens in the giant grasses, if he makes himself a lodge in this lonely region, a Wren will immediately appear to make its nest in his thatch and cheer him with its song.

Even in large towns they are common, and I always remember one flying into a church in Buenos Ayres one Sunday, and, during the- 15 - whole sermon-time, pouring out its bright lyric strains from its perch high up somewhere in the ornamental wood-work of the roof.

The Wren sings all summer, and also on bright days in winter. The song is not unlike that of the English House-Wren, having the same gushing character, the notes being strong and clear, and uttered with rapidity and precision; but the Argentine bird has greater sweetness and more power.

In spring the male courts his mate with notes high and piercing as the squeals of a young mouse; these he repeats with great rapidity, fluttering his wings all the time like a moth, and at intervals breaking out into song.

The nest is made in a dark hole in a wall or tree, sometimes in the forsaken domed nest of some other bird; and where such sites are not to be found, in a dense thistle or thorn-bush, or in a large tussock of grass. I have also found nests in dry skulls of cows and horses, in an old boot, in the sleeve of an old coat left hanging on a fence, in a large-necked bottle, and in various other curious situations. The nest is built of sticks and lined with horse-hair or feathers, and the eggs are usually nine in number, of a pinkish ground-colour, thickly spotted with pale red.

Hab. Tucuman.

This is a recent discovery of Herr Schulz in the Sierra of Tucuman. We have not yet met with specimens of it.

Hab. Argentina, Patagonia, and Falkland Islands.

This small Wren is rarely seen, being nowhere common, although widely distributed. It prefers open grounds covered with dense reeds and grasses, where it easily escapes observation. I have met with it near Buenos Ayres city; also on the desert pampas, in the tall pampas-grass. It is likewise met with along the Paraná river, and in Chili, Patagonia, and the Falkland Islands. In the last-named locality Darwin found it common, and says that it has there an extremely feeble flight, so that it may easily be run down and taken.

The Marsh-Wren has a sweet and delicate song, resembling that of the House-Wren (Troglodytes furvus), but much less powerful. It does not migrate; and on the pampas I have heard it singing with great animation when the pampas-grass, where it sat perched, was white with frozen dew. Probably its song, like that of Troglodytes furvus, varies in different districts; at all events, the pampas bird does not possess so fine a song as Azara ascribes to his “Todo Voz” in Paraguay, which is undoubtedly the same species.

The Wagtails and Pipits are closely-allied forms, and are usually referred to the same family of Oscines. The Wagtails are restricted to the Old World, although it has been recently ascertained that some of them occasionally occur as stragglers in the northern latitudes of America. Of the almost cosmopolitan Pipits about eight or nine species are sparingly distributed over the prairies and pampas of the New World. One of these is a common resident in the pampas of Argentina, and another (perhaps somewhat doubtful species) is occasionally met with.

Hab. Paraguay, Argentina, Patagonia, and Chili.

Azara’s only reason for calling this bird La Correndera was because he thought it resembled a Tit-Lark known by that name in his own country, but of which he merely had a confused recollection. It is therefore to be regretted, I think, that correndera has been adopted as a specific name by naturalists instead of “Cachila,” the vernacular name of the bird, familiar to every one in the Argentine country. Azara’s Spanish bird was probably Anthus pratensis, which closely resembles A. correndera in general appearance, and has, moreover, as wide a range in the northern as the last-named species has in the southern hemisphere. In the volume on Birds in the ‘Voyage of the Beagle,’ it is said that a species of Anthus ranges further south than any other land-bird, being the only land-bird found on Georgia and South Orkney (lat. 61° S.).

In colour and language, possibly also in size, the Cachila is variable. It is a very common bird, widely and plentifully distributed over the pampas, found alike on marshy and dry grounds, but rare in the region of giant grasses. While abundant, it is also very evenly dispersed, each bird spending its life on a very circumscribed plot of earth. Those frequenting marshy or moist grounds are of a yellowish-cream colour, thickly mottled and striped with fuscous and black, and have two narrow parallel pure white marks on the back, very conspicuous when the bird is on the ground. The individuals frequenting high and dry grounds are much paler in hue, appearing almost grey, and do not show the white marks on the back. They also look larger than the birds on marshy lands; but this appearance is probably due to a looser plumage. The most strongly-marked pale and dark-plumaged variations may be- 18 - found living within a few hundred yards of each other, showing how strictly each bird keeps to its own little “beat”; for this difference in coloration is, no doubt, due entirely to the amount of moisture in the ground they live on.

The Cachilas are resident, living in couples all the year round, the sexes being faithful. Several pairs frequent a small area, and sometimes they unite in a desultory flock; but these gatherings are not frequent. In the evening, at all seasons, immediately after the sun has set, the Cachilas all rise to a considerable height in the air and fly wildly about, chirping for a few minutes, after which they retire to roost.

When approached they frequently rise up several feet from the ground and flutter in the air, chirping sharply, with breast towards the intruder. This is a habit also found in Synallaxine species inhabiting the grassy plains. But, as a rule, the Cachilas are the tamest of feathered creatures, and usually creep reluctantly away on their little pink feet when approached. If the pedestrian is a stranger to their habits they easily delude him into attempting their capture with his hat, so little is their fear of man.

To sing, the Cachila mounts upwards almost vertically, making at intervals a fluttering pause, accompanied with a few hurried notes. When he has thus risen to a great height (but never beyond sight as Azara says) he begins the descent slowly, the wings inclining upwards; and, descending, he pours forth long impressive strains, each ending with a falling inflection or with two or three short throat-notes as the bird pauses fluttering in mid-air, and then renewed successively until, when the singer is within 3 or 4 feet of the earth, without alighting he reascends as before to continue the performance. It is a very charming melody, and heard always on the treeless plains when there is no other bird-music, with the exception of the trilling and grasshopper-like notes of a few Synallaxine species. But in character it is utterly unlike the song of the Sky-Lark with its boundless energy, hurry, and abandon; and yet it is impossible not to think of the Sky-Lark when describing the Cachila, which, in its manners, appearance, and in its habit of soaring to a great height when singing, seems so like a small copy of that bird.

The Cachila rears two broods in the year; the first is hatched about the middle of August, that is, one to three months before the laying-season of other Passerine species. By anticipating the breeding-season their early nests escape the evil of parasitical eggs; but, on the other hand, frosty nights and heavy rains are probably as fatal to as many early broods as the instinct of the Molothrus bonariensis, or Cow-bird, is to others at a later period.

- 19 -The second brood is reared in December, the hottest month, and in that season a large proportion of their nests contain parasitical eggs.

The nest is placed in a slight hollow in the ground, under a tussock of grass, and is sometimes elaborately made and lined with horsehair and fine grass, and sometimes with a few materials loosely put together. During the solstitial heats I have frequently found nests with frail shades, built of sticks and grass, over them, the short withered grass affording an insufficient protection from the meridian sun. The eggs are four, elongated, with a dirty white and sometimes a dull bluish ground, thickly spotted with dusky brown and drab. In some eggs the spots are confluent, the whole shell being of a dull brownish-drab colour.

The manners of this species, where I have observed it, are always the same; it lives on the ground on open plains, where the herbage and grass is short, and never perches on trees. The song varies considerably in different districts.

Hab. Peru, Bolivia, and Argentina.

One of the Pipits procured at Conchitas belongs to this species, if distinct from the former. I think I recollect it as a resident on the pampas, closely resembling the Cachila in flight and language, but much shyer, and usually found concealed under Tulu grass on dry grounds.

The Mniotiltidæ, or Wood-singers, are a well-known and very characteristic family of the New World, where they occupy the position of our Sylviidæ. They number some 130 or 140 species, distributed all over America down to La Plata, but most abundant in the southern portions of North America, where the favourite and beautiful genus Dendrœca, with about 100 species, plays an important part. In Argentina only four species have as yet been met with.

Hab. South America.

This is a southern representative of a small group of Wood-warblers, which is extensively diffused in the New World.

The upper plumage of this small bird is mostly cerulean-blue, the breast and belly yellow. Its Guarani name, according to Azara, is “Pitiayume,” which means little yellow-breast. I have never heard it sing or utter any note beyond a very feeble chirp as it hops about through the foliage in quest of small caterpillars. Its migration extends south to Buenos Ayres, where it is seen in woods and thickets in pairs or singly; but it is a rare bird, and I have been unable to find out anything about its nesting-habits.

Hab. Brazil, Paraguay, and Northern Argentina.

This is again the only species of a North- and Central-American genus which ranges so far south as Buenos Ayres. It visits us in summer, and is found singly or in pairs in woods and large plantations. It feeds both on the ground and in trees, and, while gleaning amongst- 21 - the leaves, frequently pauses to utter its loud cheerful song, composed of seven or eight clear notes uttered with rapidity and emphasis.

Hab. South America.

This species, which is widely spread over the northern portion of South America, was found in Paraguay by Azara, and in the province of Misiones by White.

Hab. Bolivia and Northern Argentina.

White obtained a pair of these birds on the Sierra of Totoral, Catamarca, in July 1880. He describes them as quick in their movements and difficult to shoot. The species was originally discovered by d’Orbigny in Bolivia.

Three of the groups of the peculiar American family of Greenlets, allied to our Shrikes, have representatives within the Argentine Republic. The genera Vireo and Hylophilus both extend, each in the shape of one of its South-Brazilian members, into the woodlands of the Paraná; while Cyclorhis, another genus also widely spread over South and Central America, has two representatives within our area. One of these latter is well known in the neighbourhood of Buenos Ayres; the other is only found in the extreme north of the Republic.

Hab. South America, from Colombia down to Buenos Ayres.

A single specimen of this Greenlet was found in a collection made by Mr. Haslehurst near Buenos Ayres. As the species occurs in Rio Grande do Sul (Berlepsch) and Paraguay (Azara), its occasional appearance in Eastern Argentina is quite probable. Whether the bird is really distinct from the widespread Vireo olivaceus seems to be a question which is not yet finally settled.

Azara, describing this species, says it is one of the commonest in deep woods, where it moves about among the terminal twigs, without ever rising to the tops of the trees or flying down to the brush or the ground. It is active, and extremely restless in manner; and in searching after and taking the small insects and spiders on which it lives it climbs about the twigs, assuming every position, and frequently suspending itself, head downwards, by its feet. It has a full pleasing voice of considerable power, heard incessantly in the woods, particularly in the love-season. The nest is a slender beautiful structure, even surpassing that of the Humming-birds, constructed of thin dry leaves outside, smoothly attached to the rest with spiders’ webs, while the inside is formed of fine fibres and cotton.

Hab. Southern Brazil, Paraguay, and Northern Argentina.

This South-Brazilian species was met with by White near San Javier, in the province of Misiones, in June 1881.

Hab. Middle districts of Argentina.

This species is not uncommon in the woods along the shores of the Plata, and may be easily known to any person penetrating them by its loud “cheerful soliloquy,” for that phrase of Mr. Barrows, the North-American writer on birds, well describes the artless, light-hearted song which it utters at intervals while it roams about in the deep foliage, and which reminds one of the careless whistling of a boy, whistling merely to express his gaiety, but without having any particular tune in his mind. It is migratory, and extends its range south of Buenos Ayres.

Hab. Paraguay and Northern Argentina.

This species was met with by Durnford near Salta in June 1878. He describes the iris as “light rufous; upper mandible dark slate, under mandible, legs, and feet pale slate.”

Mr. Salvin founded his C. altirostris upon Durnford’s specimens, but Graf v. Berlepsch is of opinion that this species is the “Habia verde” of Azara, and should consequently bear the name “viridis” of Vieillot. This is perhaps correct, but at the same time it would only make fresh confusion to transfer to this species the name hitherto usually applied to the preceding bird. We prefer, consequently, to let it stand under Mr. Salvin’s name “altirostris.”

The cosmopolitan family of Swallows, of which about eighty species are known, is well developed in the New World, where some thirty representatives occur in various parts. In Argentina the occurrence of eight Swallows has been recorded. Three of them belong to the group of Purple Martins (Progne), which is restricted to the New World, and of the remainder four are members of genera entirely restricted to the Neotropical Region. The genus Petrochelidon, of which one species is met with in La Plata, has alone representatives in the Eastern Hemisphere.

Hab. Argentina and Patagonia.

The Purple Martin is occasionally seen in the eastern provinces of La Plata when migrating, but has not been found nesting anywhere so far north as Buenos Ayres. I met with it breeding at Bahia Blanca on the Atlantic coast, and on the Rio Negro, where it is very common. It arrives in Patagonia late in September, and leaves before the middle of February. On the 14th of that month I saw one flock flying north, but it was the last. It breeds in holes under the caves of houses or in walls, and its nest is like that of P. chalybea; but many also breed in holes in the steep banks of the Rio Negro. They do not, however, excavate holes for themselves, but take possession of natural crevices and old forsaken burrows of the Burrowing Parrot (Conurus patachonicus). In size, flight, manners, and appearance the Purple Martin closely resembles the following species, the only difference being in the dark plumage of the under surface. The language of the two birds is also identical; the loud excited scream when the nest is approached, the various other notes when the birds sweep about in the air, and the agreeably modulated and leisurely-uttered song are all possessed by the two species without the slightest difference in strength or intonation. This circumstance appears very remarkable to me, because, though two species do sometimes possess a few notes alike, the greater part of their language is generally different; also because birds of the same species in different localities vary more in language than in any other particular. This last observation, however, applies more to resident than to migratory species.

Hab. Central and South America.

This species, distinguished from the Purple Martin by its white underparts, ranges from Mexico to Buenos Ayres, the extreme limit of its range being about 250 miles south of that city. It was well called Golondrina domestica by Azara, being preeminently domestic in its habits. It never breeds in banks as the Purple Martin often does, or in the domed nests of other birds in trees, a situation always resorted to by the Tree-Martin, and occasionally by the Common Swallow; but is so accustomed to the companionship of man as to make its home in populous towns as well as in country-houses. It arrives in Buenos Ayres about the middle of September, and apparently resorts to the same breeding-place every year. A hole under the eaves is usually selected, and the nest is roughly built of dry grass, hair, feathers, and other materials. When the entrance to its breeding-hole is too large, it partially closes it up with mud mixed with straw; if there be two entrances it stops up one altogether. The bird does not often require to use mud in building; it is the only one of our Swallows that uses such a material at all. The eggs are white, long, pointed, and five in number.

In the season of courtship this Martin is a noisy pugnacious bird, and always, when quitting its nest, utters an exceedingly loud startling cry several times repeated. It also has a song, uttered both when resting and on the wing, composed of several agreeably modulated notes, and in that thick rolling intonation peculiar to our Swallows. This song does not sound loud when near, yet it can be distinctly heard when the bird appears but a speck in the distance. I may here remark that, with the exception of the Petrochelidon pyrrhonota, which possesses a sharp squeaky voice, like the Swallows of Europe, all our Hirundines have soft voices: their usual twittering when they are circling about resembles somewhat the chirping of the English House-Sparrow in tone, but besides these notes they possess a song more pleasing to the ear.

Before leaving in February these birds congregate in parties of from twenty to four or five hundred, usually on the broad leafy top of an old ombú tree.

Hab. Brazil, Paraguay, Argentina.

The Tree-Martin is more slender and has a greater extent of wing than the Purple Martins; and, instead of the beautiful dark purple (their prevailing colour), its entire upper plumage is dusky brown, the under surface white. But if these differences of structure and hue merely serve to show that it is not a very near relative of the other species, those exhibited in its habits remove it very far indeed from them.

The Tree-Martin is a very garrulous bird, and no sooner arrives early in September, than we are apprised of the circumstance by the notes which the male and female incessantly sing in concert, fluttering and waving their wings the while, and seeming quite beside themselves with joy at their safe arrival; for invariably they arrive already mated. Their language is more varied, the intonation bolder and freer than that of our other Swallows. The length of the notes can be varied at pleasure; some are almost harsh, others silvery or liquid, as of trickling drops of water; they all have a glad sound; and many have that peculiar character of some bird-notes of shaping themselves into words.

This Martin is never seen to alight on the ground or on the roofs of houses, but solely on trees; and when engaged in collecting materials for its nest, it sweeps down and snatches up a feather or straw without touching the surface. It breeds only in the clay-ovens of the Oven-bird (Furnarius rufus). I, at least, have never seen them breed in any other situation after observing them for a great many summers. An extraordinary habit! for, many as are the species that possess the parasitical tendency of breeding in other birds’ nests, none of them confine themselves to the nest of a single species excepting the bird I am describing. It must, however, be understood that my knowledge of this bird has been acquired in Buenos Ayres, where I have observed it; and as this Martin possesses a wider range in South America than the Oven-birds, it is more than probable that in other districts it builds in different situations.

On arriving in spring each pair takes up its position on some tree, and usually on a particular branch; a dead branch extending beyond the foliage is a favourite perch. Here they spend much of their time, never appearing to remain long absent from it, and often, when singing- 28 - their notes together, fluttering about it with a tremulous uncertain flight, like that of a hovering butterfly. About three weeks after first arriving they begin to make advances towards the Oven-bird’s nest that stands on the nearest post or tree; and if it be still occupied by the rightful owners, after much time has been spent in sporting about and reconnoitring it, a feud begins which is often exceedingly violent and protracted for many days.

In seasons favourable to them the Oven-birds build in autumn and winter, and breed early in spring; so that their broods are out of their clay-houses by the end of October or earlier; when this happens, the Swallow that breeds in November quietly takes possession of the forsaken fortress. But accidents will happen, even to the wonderful fabric of the Oven-bird. It is sometimes destroyed and must be rebuilt; or its completion has perhaps been retarded for months by drought, or by the poor condition of the birds in severe weather; or the first brood has perhaps perished, destroyed by an opossum or other enemy. November, and even December, may thus arrive before some pairs have hatched their eggs; and it is these unfortunate late breeders that suffer from the violence of the marauding Swallows. I have often witnessed the wars of these birds with the deepest interest; and in many ovens that I have opened I have found the eggs of the Oven-birds buried under the nests of the Swallows. After the Swallows have taken up a position near the coveted oven, they occasionally fly towards and hover about it, returning again to their stand. By-and-by, instead of returning as at first, they take to alighting at the entrance of the coveted home; this is a sort of declaration of war, and marks the beginning of hostilities. The Oven-birds, full of alarm and anger, rush upon and repel them as often as they approach; they retire before this furious onset, but not discomfited, and only warbling out their gay seemingly derisive notes in answer to the outrageous indignant screams of their enemies. Soon they return; the scene is repeated; and this desultory skirmishing is often continued for many days.

But at length the lawless invaders, grown bolder, and familiar with his strength and resources, will no longer fly from the master of the house; desperate struggles now frequently take place at the entrance, the birds again and again dropping to the ground clutched fiercely together, and again hurrying up only to resume the combat. Victory at last declares itself for the aggressors, and they busy themselves carrying in materials for their nest, screaming their jubilant notes all the time as if in token of triumph. The brave and industrious Oven-birds, dispossessed of their home, retire to spend their childless summer together, for the male and female never separate; and when the autumn- 29 - rains have supplied them with wet clay, and the sense of defeat is worn off, they cheerfully begin their building-operations afresh.

This is not, however, the invariable result of the conflict. To the superior swiftness of the Martin the Oven-bird opposes greater strength, and, it might be added, a greater degree of zeal and fury than can animate its adversary. The contest is thus nearly an equal one; and the Oven-bird, particularly when its young are already hatched, is often able to maintain its own. But the Martins never suffer defeat; for, when unable to take the citadel by storm, they fall back on their dribbling system of warfare, which they keep up till the young birds leave the nest, when they take possession before it has grown cold.

The Martin makes its own nest chiefly of large feathers, and lays four eggs, long, pointed, and pure white.

It will be remarked that in all its habits above mentioned this bird differs widely from the two preceding species. It also differs greatly from them in its manner of flight. The Purple Martins move with surprising grace and celerity, the wings extended to their utmost; they also love to sail in circles high up in the air, or about the summits of tall trees, and particularly during a high wind. At such times several individuals are usually seen together, and all seem striving to outvie each other in the beauty of their evolutions.

The Tree-Martin is never seen to soar about in circles; and though when hawking after flies and moths it sweeps the surface of the grass with amazing swiftness, at other times it has a flight strangely slow and of a fashion peculiar to itself: the long wings are depressed as much as those of a Wild Duck when dropping on to the water, and are constantly agitated with tremulous flutterings, short and rapid as those of a butterfly.

Neither is this bird gregarious like all its congeners, though occasionally an individual associates for a while with Swallows of another species; but this only when they are resting on fences or trees, for as soon as they take flight it leaves them. Once or twice, when for some mysterious cause the autumnal migration has been delayed long past its usual time, I have seen them unite in small flocks; but this is very rare. As a rule they have no meetings preparatory to migration, but skim about the fields and open plains in un-Swallow-like solitude, and suddenly disappear without having warned us of their intended departure.

Hab. South America.

This species does not breed in Buenos Ayres, and is only seen there in spring, flying south or south-west, and again in much larger numbers on its return journey in autumn. On the Rio Negro, in Patagonia, I did not meet with it, and suppose its summer resort must be south of that locality; and, judging from the immense numbers visible in some seasons, I should think that they must, in their breeding-place in Patagonia, occupy a very extensive area. They do not seem to be as regular in their movements as other Swallows here; some years I have observed them passing singly or in small parties during the entire hot season: usually they begin to appear, flying north, in February; but in some years not until after the middle of March. They are not seen passing with a rapid flight in close flocks, but straggle about, hawking after flies: first one bird passing, then two or three, and a minute or two later half a dozen, and so on for a greater part of the day. So long as the weather continues warm they journey in this leisurely manner; but I have known them to continue passing till April, after all the summer migrants had left us, and these late birds flew by with great speed in small close flocks, directly north, as if their flight had been guided by the magnetic needle.

While flying this species continually utters sharp twitterings and grinding and squealing notes of various lengths.

Hab. Brazil, Paraguay, and Argentina.

This is the most abundant and best known of our Swallows; a pretty bird in its glossy coat of deep green, and rump and under surface snowy white; exceedingly restless in its disposition, quick and graceful in its motions; social, quarrelsome, garrulous, with a not unmusical song, beginning with long, soft, tremulous notes, followed by others shorter and more hurried, and sinking to a murmur. They are the last of all our migrants to leave us in autumn, and invariably reappear in small numbers about the houses on every warm day in winter. Probably many individuals in Buenos Ayres remain through the winter in sheltered situations, to scatter over the surrounding country whenever there comes a warm bright day. I once saw three together, skimming over the plains, on one of the coldest days I ever experienced on the pampas, the thermometer having stood at 29° Fahr. that morning.

Further south their migration is more strict; and on the Rio Negro, in Patagonia, from March to August I did not meet with a single individual. In Buenos Ayres the autumnal migration of the Hirundines begins about the middle of February, and from that date vast numbers of this Swallow are seen travelling north, and, in some seasons, they continue passing for over a month. One autumn, in April, several days after the Swallows had all disappeared, flocks of the Common Swallow began again to appear flying north, and for ten days afterwards they continued to pass in large numbers. They would stoop to dip themselves in a pool where I observed them, and then alight on the reeds and bushes to rest, and appeared quite tired with their journey, rising reluctantly when approached, and some allowing me to stand almost within arm’s length of them without stirring. I had never before observed any later or supplementary migration like this; for, as a rule, the causes which in some years delay the departure of birds seems to affect them all alike. Possibly these late birds come from some remote district, where exceptionally cold weather had retarded breeding-operations.

The White-rumped Swallow sometimes lays in a tree, in the large nest, previously abandoned, of the Leñatero (Anumbius acuticaudatus). Its- 32 - favourite site is, however, a hole in a wall, sheltered by the overhanging tiles or thatch; for though it does not go much into towns, as Azara has remarked, it is very domestic, and there is not a house on the pampas, however humble it be, but some of these birds are about it, sportively skimming above the roof, or curiously peering under the eaves, and incessantly uttering their gurgling happy notes.

For a period of a month to six weeks before building begins they seem to be holding an incessant dispute, reminding one in their scolding tones of a colony of contentious English House-Sparrows, only the Swallow has a softer, more varied voice, and frequently, even when hotly quarrelling, he pauses to warble out his pretty little song, with its sound like running water. However many eligible chinks and holes there may be, the contention is always just as great amongst them, and is doubtless referable to opposing claims to the best places. The excited twittering, the incessant striving of two birds to alight on the same square inch of wall, the perpetual chases they lead each other round and round the house, always ending exactly where they began, tell of clashing interests and of great unreasonableness on the part of some amongst them. By-and-by the quarrel assumes a more serious aspect; friends and neighbours have apparently intervened in vain; all the arguments of which Swallows are capable have been exhausted, and, a compromise of claims being more impossible than ever, fighting begins. Most vindictively do the little things clutch each other and fall to the earth twenty times an hour, where they often remain struggling for a long time, heedless of the screams of alarm their fellows set up above them; for often, while they thus lie on the ground punishing each other, they fall an easy prey to some wily pussy who has made herself acquainted with their habits.

When these feuds are finally settled, they address themselves diligently to the great work and build a rather big nest. They are not neat or skilful workers, but merely stuff a great quantity of straw and other light materials into the breeding-hole, and line the nest with feathers and horsehair. On this soft but disorderly bed the female lays from five to seven pure white eggs.

All those species that are liable at any time to become the victims of raptorial birds are very much beholden to this Swallow, as he is the most vigilant sentinel they possess. When the hurrying Falcon is still far off, and the other birds unsuspicious of his approach, the Swallows suddenly rush up into the sky with a wild rapid flight to announce the evil tidings with distracted screams. The alarm spreads swift as light through the feathered tribes, which, on all sides, are in terrified commotion, crouching in the grass, plunging into thickets, or mounting- 33 - upwards to escape by flight. I have often wondered at this, since this swift-winged and quick-doubling little bird is the least likely to fall a prey himself.

They possess another habit very grateful to the mind of every early riser. At the first indication of dawn, and before any other wild bird has broken the profound silence of night, multitudes of this Swallow, as if at the signal of a leader, begin their singing and twittering, at the same time mounting upwards into the quiet dusky sky. Their notes at this hour differ from the hurried twittering uttered during the day, being softer and more prolonged, and, sounding far up in the sky from so many throats, the concert has a very charming effect, and seems in harmony with the shadowy morning twilight.

Hab. Central and South America.

This diminutive dark-plumaged species is the smallest of our Hirundines. In Buenos Ayres they appear early in September, arriving before the Martins, but preceded by the Common Swallow. They are bank-birds, breeding in forsaken holes and burrows, for they never bore into the earth themselves, and are consequently not much seen about the habitations of man. They sometimes find their breeding-holes in the banks of streams, or, in cultivated districts, in the sides of ditches, and even down in wells. But if in such sites alone fit receptacles for their eggs were met with, the species, instead of one of the commonest, would be rare indeed with us; for on the level pampas most of the water-courses have marshy borders, or at most but low and gently sloping banks. But the burrowing habits of two other animals—the Vizcacha (Lagostomus trichodactylus), the common large rodent of the pampas, and the curious little bird called Minera (Geositta cunicularia)—have- 34 - everywhere afforded the Swallows abundance of breeding-places on the plains, even where there are no streams or other irregularities in the smooth surface of the earth.

The Minera bores its hole in the sides of the Vizcacha’s great burrow, and in this burrow within a burrow the Swallow lays its eggs and rears its young, and is the guest of the Vizcacha, and as much dependent on it as the House-Wren and the Domestic Swallow on man; so that in spring, when this species returns to the plains, it is in the villages of the Vizcachas that we see them. There they live and spend the day, sporting about the burrows, just as the Common Swallow does about our houses; and to a stranger on the pampas one of these villages, with its incongruous bird and mammalian inhabitants, must seem a very curious sight in the evening. Before sunset the old male Vizcachas come forth to sit gravely at the mouths of their great burrows. One or two couples of Mineras, their little brown bird-tenants, are always seen running about on the bare ground round the holes, resting at intervals with their tails slowly moving up and down, and occasionally trilling-out their shrill laughter-like cry. Often a pair of Burrowing-Owls also live in the village, occupying one of the lesser disused burrows; and round them all flit half a dozen little Swallows, like twilight-moths with long black wings. It is never quite a happy family, however, for the Owls always hiss and snap at a Vizcacha if he comes too near; while the little Swallows never become reconciled to the Owls, but perpetually flutter about them, protesting against their presence with long complaining notes.

The nest, made of dry grass lined with feathers, is placed at the extremity of the long, straight, cylindrical burrow, and contains five or six white pointed eggs. I have never seen these Swallows fighting with the Minera to obtain possession of the burrows, for this industrious little bird makes itself a fresh one every spring, so that there are always houses enough for the Swallows. After the young have flown, they sit huddled together on a weed or thistle-top, and the parents continue to feed them for many days.

As in size and brightness of plumage, so in language is the Bank-Swallow inferior to other species, its only song being a single, weak, trilling note, much prolonged, which the bird repeats with great frequency when on the wing. Its voice has ever a mournful, monotonous sound, and even when it is greatly excited and alarmed, as at the approach of a fox or hawk, its notes are neither loud nor shrill. When flying they glide along close to the earth, and frequently alight on the ground to rest, which is contrary to the custom of other Swallows. Like other species of this family, they possess the habit of- 35 - gliding to and fro before a traveller’s horse, to catch the small twilight-moths driven up from the grass. A person riding on the pampas usually has a number of Swallows flying round him, and I have often thought that more than a hundred were before my horse at one time; but, from the rapidity of their motions, it is impossible to count them. I have frequently noticed individuals of the four most common species following me together; but after sunset, and when the other species have long forsaken the open grassy plain for the shelter of trees and houses, the diminutive Bank-Swallow continues to keep the traveller company. At such a time, as they glide about in the dusk of evening, conversing together in low tremulous tones, they have a peculiarly sorrowful appearance, seeming like homeless little wanderers over the great level plains.

When the season of migration approaches they begin to congregate in parties not very large, though sometimes as many as one or two hundred individuals are seen together; these companies spend much of their time perched close together on weeds, low trees, fences, or other slightly elevated situations, and pay little heed to a person approaching, but seem preoccupied or preyed upon by some trouble that has no visible cause.

The time immediately preceding the departure of the Swallows is indeed a season of very deep interest to the observer of nature. The birds in many cases seem to forget the attachment of the sexes and their songs and aerial recreations; they already begin to feel the premonitions of that marvellous instinct that urges them hence: not yet an irresistible impulse, it is a vague sense of disquiet; but its influence is manifest in their language and gestures, their wild manner of flight, and their listless intervals.

The little Bank-Swallow disappears immediately after the Martins. Many stragglers continue to be seen after the departure of the main body; but before the middle of March not one remains, the migration of this species being very regular.

Hab. Guiana, Brazil, and Northern Argentina.

This Swallow is common near Mendoza, according to Prof. Burmeister. White obtained it in May 1881 at Santo Tomé, Corrientes, and in 1882 at Cosquin near Cordova. At Cosquin the first individual was seen on July 20th, but towards the end of August large numbers were observed, mostly skimming over the river.

Hab. South America.

Mr. Barrows tells us that this species is abundant in Entrerios throughout the summer, arriving from the north early in August, and is said to nest in holes in banks.

The brilliant family of Tanagers, one of the most characteristic groups of the American avifauna, contains altogether nearly 400 species, of which the greater number are restricted to the forest-clad districts of Central and South America between the tropics. South of the Tropic of Cancer the number of species met with falls off very considerably, so that in the Argentine Republic only fourteen members of the family have as yet been recognized. This number will, however, be probably increased when the less-known wooded districts of northern and eastern Argentina have been more fully explored.

The fourteen species of Argentine Tanagers belong to ten different genera, mostly of wide distribution. But to this rule one genus (Stephanophorus) is an exception, being only found in Southern Brazil, Paraguay, Uruguay, and Northern La Plata.

Hab. South America from Colombia to Northern Argentina.

This Tanager was obtained by d’Orbigny in Southern Corrientes.

Hab. Guiana, Brazil, Paraguay, and Northern Argentina.

White obtained examples of this species at Concepcion and Catamarca. At the former place it was noticed feeding on the fruit of a giant cactus.

Hab. South America from Venezuela to Paraguay and Northern Argentina.

This Tanager, which was found by Azara in Paraguay, occurs in Tucuman. An adult male obtained by Herr Schulz in this province is in the collection of Hans, Graf von Berlepsch.

Hab. Southern Brazil, Paraguay, and Northern Argentina.

Azara gave the generic name Lindo (beautiful) to the Tanagers, and this species he named the “Blue White-headed Beautiful,” the entire plumage being of a very lovely deep corn-flower blue, except a cap of silvery-white feathers on the head, with a crimson spot on the forehead, looking like a drop of blood.

It is a summer bird in Buenos Ayres, where it makes its appearance in spring in the woods bordering on the Plata river, and is usually seen singly or in pairs. The nest is built in a tree ten or twelve feet from the ground, and is somewhat shallow and lined with soft dry grass. The female lays four eggs, white and spotted with deep red. During incubation the male sits concealed in the thick foliage close by, amusing itself by the hour with singing, its performance consisting of chattering disconnected notes uttered in so low a tone as to make one fancy that the bird is merely trying to recall some melody it has forgotten, or endeavouring to construct a new one by jerking out a variety of sounds at random. The bird never gets beyond this unsatisfactory stage, however, and must be admired for its exquisite beauty alone.

Hab. S.E. Brazil and Argentina.

In the ‘Catalogue of Birds’ I referred the Argentine Blue Tanager to T. cyanoptera, though expressing a doubt upon the subject. I am now disposed to adopt Graf. v. Berlepsch’s view that the Argentine species rather belongs to T. sayaca.—P. L. S.

This species migrates as far south as Buenos Ayres, and appears in spring, in small flocks or parties of three or four birds, in the woods on the shores of the Plata. The male utters a series of peculiar squealing notes by way of song.

Hab. South Brazil, Uruguay, Paraguay, Argentine Republic, and Bolivia.

The plumage of the male of this fine Tanager is rich blue above and yellow beneath; the upper plumage of the female is a uniform dull olive-green, the breast and belly buff-colour.

It is a migratory species, which appears in Buenos Ayres in small flocks in summer. Both sexes have a long, sharp, reedy call-note; the male also possesses a song composed of notes with a peculiar bleating sound.

Hab. Argentine Republic, Paraguay, Uruguay, and Bolivia.

This scarlet Tanager appears occasionally in the northern and eastern provinces of Argentina.

Hab. Southern Brazil, Paraguay, and N.E. Argentina.

This species was met with by White in the dense forests of Misiones.

Hab. Bolivia and Tucuman.

Herr Schulz obtained specimens of this Bolivian species in Tucuman.

Hab. Tucuman.

This is a rather aberrant species of Buarremon, as yet only known from Tucuman, where it was discovered by Schulz.

Hab. Bolivia and Northern Argentina.

Specimens of this Tanager were obtained by White on the Sierras of Totoral, near Catamarca, in July 1880. The iris is marked as “blue.”

Hab. S.E. Brazil and Eastern Argentina.

This Saltator was first described from specimens obtained at Rincon de Luna in Corrientes by d’Orbigny, but no recent collectors appear to have met with it in the Argentine Republic.

Hab. Paraguay, Uruguay, and Argentina.

Mr. Durnford found this Saltator “pretty common” near Baradero, on low scrubby ground near water, and afterwards obtained it near Salta. White records it as “very abundant” near Oran.

Hab. Paraguay, Uruguay, and Northern Argentina.

In Corrientes d’Orbigny found this Saltator breeding in the month of November. It frequents the shrubs and bushes in the neighbourhood of the houses, and makes an open nest of roots, not of very neat construction. The eggs are two or three, greenish blue, slightly spotted at the larger end with blackish and reddish zigzag markings. The egg is figured in d’Orbigny’s ‘Voyage’ (pl. xxviii. fig. 3).

White tells us that this species is not uncommon in Catamarca, and Barrows met with it at Concepcion in Entrerios.

The extensive family of Finches, which has numerous representatives in every part of the world, is well represented in the Argentine Republic. Within the limits assigned to the present work forty-six species of his group are already known to occur, and it is probable that this number will be somewhat increased when the Argentine avifauna is thoroughly worked out.

Most of the genera to which the Argentine Finches belong are forms peculiar to the Neotropical Region, or at all events to the New World. The genus Chrysomitris, which contains our Siskin and other Old-World species, is the only one which has a wider distribution.

One of the most characteristic forms of Argentine Fringillidæ is Poospiza, of which seven species are met with within the limits of the Republic, while Lophospingus, Donacospiza, Gubernatrix, and Saltatricula are Fringilline types peculiar to Argentina.

Hab. Bolivia and Northern Argentina.

Examples of this fine species, originally discovered by d’Orbigny in Bolivia, were obtained by White in the forests of Salta.

Hab. Brazil, Paraguay, and Northern Argentina.

White found this bird “not uncommon around Andalgala in Catamarca, in hedges and thickets.” Mr. Sharpe separates the Argentine bird as a subspecies, from its larger size.

Hab. Paraguay, Uruguay, and Argentina.

This is a rare Finch, and its massive beak and rich blue plumage give to it a highly interesting appearance; but about its habits I have little to tell, for it is essentially a bird of the wild forest, seldom coming near the abodes of man, and being, moreover, shy in disposition, it is difficult to observe it even in its haunts. It is migratory, and is usually seen singly or in pairs, or in small companies of four or five individuals. The male sings, but his performance is merely a confused medley of chattering notes, uttered in so low a tone that they can scarcely be heard at a distance of twelve yards.

Hab. S. Brazil, Paraguay, and Northern Argentina.

This Finch is stated by Burmeister to occur near Tucuman.

This small and beautiful Finch was discovered by Mr. Barrows in February 1880, on the Lower Uruguay. It inhabits the marshes, where the males are frequently seen pursuing each other in the pairing-season, occasionally pausing on the top of some tall grass to pour out their delightful song. In character this resembles that of the Black-headed Goldfinch; but has, Mr. Barrows says, a variety and sweetness far beyond the powers of that bird.

It is just possible that Mr. Barrows’s Finch may be Azara’s unidentified Chipiu pardo y canela (Apuntamientos, vol. i. no. 143), which has the same habits, living in the dense reed-beds of the Paraguayan marshes, and is also a delightful singer,—superior to the Goldfinch or Canary, Azara says.

Hab. Paraguay and Argentina.

A specimen of this species, now in the British Museum, was obtained by Durnford at Punta Lara in October 1875.

Hab. Southern Brazil, Paraguay, Argentina, and Bolivia.

This species is a summer visitor in Buenos Ayres, and is one of the last to arrive and first to depart of our migrants. These birds are always most abundant in plantations, preferring peach-trees, but do not associate in flocks: they are exceedingly swift and active, overflowing with life and energy, their impetuous notes and motions giving one the idea that they are always in a state of violent excitement. The male has a loud, startled chirp, also a song composed of eight or ten notes, delivered with such vehemence and rapidity, that they run into each other and sound more like a scream than a song. There is not a more clever architect than this species; and while many Synallaxes are laboriously endeavouring to show how stately a mansion of sticks a little bird can erect for itself, the Screaming Finch has successfully solved the problem of how to construct the most perfect nest for lightness, strength, and symmetry with the fewest materials. It is a small, cup-shaped structure, suspended hammock-wise between two slender upright branches, and to which it is securely attached by fine hairs and webs. It is made of thin, pale-coloured, fibrous roots, ingeniously woven together—reddish or light-coloured horse-hair being sometimes substituted; and so little material is used that, standing under the tree, a person can easily count the eggs through the bottom of the nest. Its apparent frailness is, however, its best protection from the prying eyes of birds and mammals that prey on the eggs and young of small birds; for it is difficult to detect this slight structure, through which the sunshine and rain pass so freely. So light is the little basket-nest that it may be placed on the open hand and blown away with the breath like a straw; yet so strong that a man can suspend his weight from it- 47 - without pulling it to pieces. The eggs are three in number, white and spotted with black, sometimes bluish-brown spots are mingled with the black.

Hab. Bolivia, Paraguay, and Argentina.

This well-known species is perhaps the finest Finch the Argentines have. The entire upper plumage is clear grey, the under surface pure white; but its chief glory is its crest, which, with the anterior part of the head and the throat, is of the most vivid scarlet. The song has little variety, but is remarkably loud, and has that cheerful ring which most people admire in their caged pets, possibly because it produces the idea in the listener’s mind that the songster is glad to be a prisoner. As a cage-bird this Finch enjoys an extraordinary popularity; and a stranger in Buenos Ayres, seeing the numbers that are exposed for sale by the bird-dealers in the markets of that city, might fancy that a Cardinal in a cage is considered a necessary part of the ménage of every house in the country. This large supply of caged birds comes from South Brazil, Paraguay, and the north-eastern part of the Argentine country, where the Cardinals are most abundant and unite in large flocks. Probably they are not snared, but taken when young from the nest, as most of the birds exposed for sale are in immature plumage.

The Cardinal in a wild state is found as far south as the province of Buenos Ayres, but it is there a scarce bird. It breeds, Mr. Gibson writes, at the end of October, and makes a shallow nest of twigs, vine-tendrils, and horse-hair. The eggs are four; ground-colour white or tinged with faint brown or greenish, and spotted with brown, more densely at the large end.

Hab. Paraguay and Bolivia.

Dr. Burmeister tells us this species is not uncommon near Paraná, where it occurs in small flocks on the river-bank, and is often seen on the stones at the river’s edge.

Hab. Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Brazil, Paraguay, and Northern Argentina.

Both Durnford and White obtained specimens of this bird in the province of Salta; White’s examples were met with in open country, dotted with thickets of low brushwood, to which the bird resorts.

Hab. Northern Argentina.

Hab. Paraguay, Uruguay, and La Plata.

The slender body, great length of tail, and the hue of the plumage, assimilating to that of sere decaying vegetation, might easily lead one into mistaking this Finch for a Synallaxis where these birds are abundant.

I have met with it in the marshy woods and reed-beds along the shores of the Plata, but it is a shy, rare bird in Buenos Ayres. I have followed it about, hoping to hear it utter a song or melodious note, but it had only a little chirp. I would not, however, on this account pronounce it to be the one silent member of a voiceful family, as my acquaintance with it is so very slight.

Hab. South Brazil, Paraguay, and Argentina.

This sweet-voiced little songster appears in Buenos Ayres at the end of September; it is a common bird in grounds abounding in bushes and scattered trees, and, in its bright ruddy breast and dark upper plumage, has some resemblance to the English Robin; only it has a very- 50 - conspicuous straw-coloured line above the eye. Its voice also, in purity and sweetness of tone, is not unlike that of the Robin; but the song, composed of six unvarying notes, is uttered in a deliberate, business-like manner at regular intervals, and is monotonous. Never more than two birds are seen together; they feed on the ground in humid situations, the male frequently seeking a perch to sing. The nest is made on the round, or in a close bush near the surface; the eggs have a pale bluish ground-colour, irregularly marked with black and very dark brown spots, and in some instances clouded with faint grey.

Hab. Province of Cordova, Rep. Arg.

This species has only been obtained by the late Mr. E. W. White. He met with specimens of it at Cosquin, Cordova, in June, July, and August, 1882. It has been dedicated to its discoverer, who has so largely augmented our knowledge of the Argentine avifauna, and whose premature death was a veritable loss for science.

Hab. Northern Argentina.

This pretty species is another of White’s discoveries. He first met- 51 - with it in the Sierra of Totoral, Catamarca, and subsequently about 20 miles north of Buenos Ayres.

Hab. Northern Argentina.

White found this species abundant amongst the thick weeds and grass in the outskirts of Concepcion. He took it for P. thoracica, from which it differs in its rufous rump. It is more like P. lateralis.

Hab. Mendoza.

Hab. Bolivia and Argentina.

White met with a male of this species in September 1881, at San Pedro, in the province of Santiago. Burmeister found it near Mendoza in the valleys of Sierra de Uspallata.

Hab. Argentina.

White says that in Salta “this bird frequents the gardens in the vicinity of the houses, where it vigorously pursues the ants amongst the branches of the trees.” Mr. Barrows says that near Concepcion it had the general motions and appearance of a Titmouse, thus differing widely from the other members of the genus.

Hab. Chili and Western Argentina.

Burmeister says that this Chilian species is found in the valleys of the Sierras near Mendoza.

Hab. Argentina.

Of this species, discovered by Dr. Burmeister near Mendoza, Mr. Barrows writes:—“Only met with on the Sierra de la Ventana, where it was abundant in flocks, some of which numbered as many as a hundred individuals. When found near the base of the sierra they were almost always associated with the common Zonotrichia. Although most of them had not finished moulting, they were constantly singing, and seemed perfectly contented with their desolate surroundings.”

Hab. Tucuman.

Schulz discovered this species on the Cerro Vayo of Tucuman, near the snow-line. It reminds one of the North-American species of Junco in its coloration.

Hab. Andes of Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru; Chili, Bolivia, and Northern Argentina.

Hab. Peru, Bolivia, Chili, and Argentine Republic.

This Finch is common on the western slopes of the Andes as far north as Peru; it is also found in the Mendoza district and throughout Patagonia. It is very abundant on the Rio Negro, especially in the immediate neighbourhood of the Carmen settlements, for, like the Chingolo and other fringilline species, it is beneficially affected by cultivation. Though not possessing any bright tints, it is a very charming bird, tuneful, elegant in form, graceful and buoyant in its motions. When approached it utters a series of low ticking sounds, and at intervals a peculiar long squealing note. The song of the male is very agreeable, and curiously resembles that of the Cachila Pipit (Anthus correndera). It usually sits on a twig near the ground, and at intervals soars up to a height of ten or twenty yards, and utters its song while gliding slowly downwards with depressed wings and outspread tail. It sings throughout the year; in bright weather its notes are heard all day long, but on cold, cloudy, or wet days only after sunset. In the warm season they live in pairs, and in the autumn unite in flocks of as many as two or three hundred individuals, and have a strong undulating flight.

Hab. Bolivia, Argentina, and Patagonia.

This species is said to be about one third less than Phrygilus fruticeti in size, but to resemble it closely in colour. Dr. Döring found it abundant in Patagonia between the rivers Colorado and Negro, where it was seen during the cold season in flocks, associating with Zonotrichia canicapilla. Burmeister met with it in the Sierra de Uspallata, near Mendoza.

Hab. Paraguay and Argentine Republic.

The Yellow Cardinal is a graceful sprightly bird, with a strong melodious voice, and is one of our favourite cage-birds. It visits Buenos Ayres in small flocks in spring, but is a rare bird with us. There is little variety in its song, which is composed of four or five mellow notes of great power, and in tone somewhat like the whistle of the Blackbird of Europe.

Hab. Chili and Western Argentina.

- 56 -This well-known Chilian species is said by Burmeister to be not unfrequent near Mendoza and along the range of the Cordilleras.

Hab. Argentina and Patagonia.

This pretty little grey-and-white Finch is common on the Chilian side of the Andes and throughout Patagonia, and also occurs in the Mendoza district. It is a tuneful bird, lively, social, and frolicsome in disposition; in autumn and winter uniting in flocks of from fifty to three or four hundred individuals; swift of flight, and when on the wing fond of pursuing its fellows and engaging in mock battles. The song of the male is very pleasing, the voice having more depth and mellowness than is usual with the smaller fringilline singers, which, as a rule, have thin, reedy, and tremulous notes. In summer it begins singing very early, even before the faintest indication of coming daylight is visible, and at that dark silent hour the notes may be heard at a great distance and sound wonderfully sweet and impressive. During the cold season, when they live in companies, the singing-time is in the evening, when the birds are gathered in some thick-foliaged tree or bush which they have chosen for a winter roosting-place. This winter-evening song is a hurried twittering, and utterly unlike the serene note of the male bird heard on summer mornings. A little while after sunset the flock bursts into a concert, which lasts several minutes, sinking and growing louder by turns, and during which it is scarcely possible to distinguish the notes of individuals. Then follows an interval of silence, after which the singing is again renewed very suddenly and as suddenly ended. For an hour after sunset, and when all other late singers, like the Mimus, have long been silent, this fitful impetuous singing is continued. Close by a house on the Rio Negro, in which I spent several months,- 57 - there were three very large chañar bushes, where a multitude of Diuca Finches used to roost, and they never missed singing in the evening, however cold or rainy the weather happened to be. So fond were they of this charming habit, that when I approached the bushes or stood directly under them, the alarm caused by my presence would interrupt the performance only for a few moments, and presently they would burst into song again, the birds all the time swiftly pursuing each other amongst the foliage, often within a foot of my head.

The eggs, Darwin says (Zool. Voy. ‘Beagle,’ iii. p. 93), are pointed, oval, pale dirty green, thickly blotched with pale dull brown, becoming confluent and entirely coloured at the broad end.

Hab. Peru, Bolivia, and Argentina.

Burmeister met with this Finch on the sierras near Mendoza, and White obtained a single specimen in Catamarca.

Hab. Bolivia and N. Argentina.

Examples of this species were obtained by Weisshaupt near Mendoza in 1871.

Hab. Central and South America.

The common, familiar, favourite Sparrow over a large portion of the South-American continent is the “Chingolo.” Darwin says that “it prefers inhabited places, but has not attained the air of domestication of the English Sparrow, which bird in habits and general appearance it resembles.” As it breeds in the fields on the ground, it can never be equally familiar with man, but in appearance it is like a refined copy of the burly English Sparrow—more delicately tinted, the throat being chestnut instead of black; the head smaller and better proportioned, and with the added distinction of a crest, which it lowers and elevates at all angles to express the various feelings affecting its busy little mind.

On the treeless desert pampas the Chingolo is rarely seen, but wherever man builds a house and plants a tree there it comes to keep him company, while in cultivated and thickly settled districts it is excessively abundant, and about Buenos Ayres it literally swarms in the fields and plantations. They are not, strictly speaking, gregarious, but where food attracts them, or the shelter of a hedge on a cold windy day, thousands are frequently seen congregated in one place; when disturbed, however, these accidental flocks immediately break up, the birds scattering abroad in different directions.

The Chingolo is a very constant singer, his song beginning with the dawn of day in spring, and continuing until evening; it is very short, being composed of a chipping prelude and four long notes, three uttered in a clear thin voice, the last a trill. This song is repeated at brief intervals, as the bird sits motionless, perched on the disc of a thistle-flower, the summit of a stalk, or other elevation; and where the Chingolos are very abundant, the whole air, on a bright spring morning, is alive with their delicate melody; only one must pause and listen before- 59 - he is aware of it, otherwise it will escape him, owing to its thin ethereal character, the multitudinous notes not mingling but floating away, as it were, detached and scattered, mere gossamer webs of sound that very faintly impress the sense. They also sing frequently at night, and in that dark silent time their little melody sounds strangely sweet and expressive. The song varies greatly in different districts; thus, in Bahia Blanca it is without the long trill at the end, and in other localities I have found it vary in other ways.

The Chingolos pair about the end of September, and at that time their battles are frequent, as they are very pugnacious. The nest is made under a thistle or tuft of grass, in a depression in the soil, so that the top of the nest is on a level with the surface of the ground. The nest is mostly made and lined with horse-hair, the eggs four or five, pale blue, and thickly spotted with dull brown. Sometimes, though very rarely, a nest is found in a bush or on a stump several feet above the ground. Two broods are reared in the season, the first in October, the second in February or March. I have known these birds to breed in April and May, and these very late nests escape the infliction of parasitical eggs. When the nest is approached or taken, the Chingolos utter no sound, but sit in dumb anxiety, with tail expanded and drooping wings.

Hab. Patagonia.

Durnford found this species common and abundant on the Chupat River and in the interior of Patagonia. It has a pretty song, and sings in the evening and during the night when the moon is shining. It nests among coarse grass and herbage, making an unpretending structure of the former material, which is lined with fibres. It lays four eggs, pale green, thickly striated with light reddish-brown spots running into each other, and most numerous at the large end.

Hab. Argentina and Patagonia.

Hab. Bolivia and Western Argentina.

Prof. Burmeister, who met with this species near Mendoza, says it is a true Zonotrichia, and not a Poospiza, as sometimes considered.

Hab. Peru, Bolivia, and Argentina.

- 61 -The prevailing colour of this little field-sparrow is grey, marked and mixed with fuscous and brown; the shoulder and space between the beak and eye are yellow. It is a common species in the northern portion of the Argentine country, and appears now to be gradually extending its range southwards. Many years ago I first noticed it on the pampas north of Buenos Ayres; afterwards I found it in the immediate neighbourhood of that city; then it began to spread over the plains to the south, appearing every spring in greater numbers, but it is still far from common. It has, I fancy, a limited migration, as I could never find one in winter. It is solitary, and frequents open plains and fields; lives on the ground, and never alights on a tree. The male has a favourite perch, a tall weed or post, where he spends a great deal of his time, repeating his song at intervals of half a minute; it is short and pleasing, and has a slight resemblance to the song of the Yellow-Hammer, but is more delicate and melodious. When approached, the bird flies down and conceals itself in the grass.

Hab. North and Western Argentina.

To Dr. Burmeister we owe the discovery of this brilliant Finch, as of so many other Argentine species. He met with it at Paraná, in the bushy lands east of the city, and obtained five specimens. White found it near Andalgala in Catamarca, on trees, feeding on the insects in the flowers and on seeds; and Durnford collected specimens near Salta.

Examples of this species were also obtained by Weisshaupt near Mendoza (cf. Salvin, Ibis, 1880, p. 355).

Hab. South Brazil, Paraguay, and Argentina.

In this Finch the plumage is alike in both sexes. Above it is dusky olive-green, beneath grey; the beak is of a fine bright red. In Argentina this bird is most common in the littoral forests along the Plata, but ranges as far south as the Rio Negro in Patagonia. It does not migrate, nor associates in flocks; but the sexes are faithful, and the male and female are invariably together, and appear to be very fond of each other’s society. They have a loud, sharp alarm chirp or cry, which bursts from the bird with the startling suddenness of a sneeze from a human being; also a confused unmelodious song, which always reminds me, in its hurry, vehemence, and peculiar sound, of the gobbling of a turkey-cock. They are not shy, but when approached sit jerking their tails about, and uttering loud chirps as if greatly excited. The flight is very curious; the bird springs up with great suddenness, and with tail erect, and the long legs dangling down like a Rail’s, proceeds by a series of irregular jerks, violently shutting and opening its wings. They breed on the ground under the grass, and conceal their nest so well that I doubt whether the parasitical Molothrus ever finds it. I have, at all events, never seen them followed by the young of Molothrus demanding food.

As a rule, small seed-eating birds are beneficially affected by the presence of man; thus our common Zonotrichia and other sparrows and finches have become excessively numerous in the most thickly-settled districts. With the Red-billed Finch, however, just the contrary has happened; and since I have known this species it has disappeared from many localities where it was once quite common. Azara’s name for this species, Habia de bañado, signifies that it is a marsh bird; but though now found chiefly in marshy situations, it was once common enough over the entire pampas region, before the great plains were- 63 - settled on by Europeans. The bird is very badly protected by nature against raptorial species, owing to its very conspicuous red beak, its habit of perching on the summit of tall plants and other elevated positions, its loud impetuous voice, which invites attention, and the weak eccentric flight, which challenges pursuit. It is essential to its safety that it should have, in the open country it frequents, a dense grass cover into which it can plunge on the slightest alarm. Where cattle are introduced, the original pampas-grass, which afforded the suitable conditions, disappears, giving place to the soft, perishable grasses, clovers, and thistles of Europe. Where these changes take place, the bird cannot escape from its enemies and quickly disappears; while many Dendrocolaptine species inhabiting the same situations are saved by their inconspicuous protective colouring, sharp wedge-like bodies, and swift mouse-like motions on the ground. In marshy places on the pampas, abounding with long aquatic grasses and reed-beds, the Red-bill still maintains its existence, but from its old habitat on the open grassy plains, where it was once the dominant Finch, it has utterly vanished.

Hab. Bolivia, Western Argentina, and Patagonia.

This species, which was met with by Dr. Burmeister near Mendoza, was found by Dr. Döring as far south as the Rio Colorado, on the pampas.

Hab. Brazil, Bolivia, Paraguay, and Argentina.

Burmeister met with this species near Paraná and in other parts of Northern Argentina.

Hab. Northern Argentina.

This species has been based by Mr. Sharpe on a specimen, obtained by White near Cordova, which was wrongly determined as Zonotrichia strigiceps—a species that it somewhat resembles in its upper plumage.

Hab. Brazil and Argentina.

This beautiful little golden-plumaged Finch, the male distinguished from his consort by a brighter yellow colour and a black head, is extremely common throughout the entire length of the Argentine country- 65 - from Brazil to Patagonia. In the Buenos-Ayrean district it probably has a partial migration, as small flocks are seen to arrive in spring; but further south, in Patagonia, it appears to be strictly resident. In settled districts they are always more abundant than in the woods, and they have a special predilection for poplar groves, and always prefer a poplar to build in. They go in small flocks, seldom more than about a dozen birds together, have a rapid, undulating flight, feed chiefly on the ground like most Finches, and also frequently alight in the seeding-time on plants like the lettuce and Sonchus asper (a common weed) and, clinging to the stem, dexterously pick off the seed, scattering the down about them in a little cloud. They are very tuneful, restless, quick in their motions, apparently always in a light-hearted merry mood. Being much admired for their song, they are often kept in cages; and certainly, for cheerfulness and constancy in singing, they take the foremost place amongst the Finches; but there is little expression in the song, which is composed of a variety of short twittering notes, uttered with great rapidity, as the bird sits perched on a twig or undulates from tree to tree. Usually the notes flow in a continuous stream, but occasionally the bird sings in a different manner, making a pause of two or three seconds of silence after every eight or ten short notes. When the female is on the nest the male sometimes perches near her amongst the leaves and sings sotto voce, apparently for her pleasure only, the notes being so low that, at a distance of ten yards, they can scarcely be heard.

The nest is usually placed between the angle formed by a small branch and the bole of the tree, and is a deep, well-made structure composed of many materials, and lined with horsehair, down, or feathers. The eggs are five, very small for the bird, pure white, and so frail that it is not easy to take them from the nest without breaking them.

While engaged in building, the birds constantly utter a low, soft, trilling note; and when the nest is approached they break out into long, somewhat reedy notes, resembling those of the Canary, expressive of alarm or curiosity.

- 66 -Hab. Bolivia and N.W. Argentina.

Dr. Burmeister obtained two examples of this species in the Sierra of Uspallata near Mendoza.

Hab. S. Brazil, Paraguay, and Argentina.

The Yellow “House-Sparrow,” as this species is called, is the town-bird of Buenos Ayres, but does not multiply greatly, nor is he familiar with man, like his rough, sooty-plumaged, far-away London relation.

The forehead of the male is bright orange, the prevailing colour of the entire plumage yellow, clouded with other hues. The female is grey, marked with pale fuscous, and is less in size than her mate. They remain with us all the year and live in pairs, the sexes in this species being faithful. Sometimes they are seen associating in small flocks, but I am inclined to believe that only the young unmated birds are gregarious. In 1867-8, during the cholera epidemic in Buenos Ayres, the Sparrows all disappeared from the town, and I was told by the manager of a large steam flour-mill in the town that the birds had not gone away, but had died. They were found dead all about the mill where they had been very abundant. My informant was a careful observer, and I have no doubt that he was correct in what he told me.

In spring and summer the male sings frequently with great energy, but without much melody. After a hurried prelude of sharp chirps and trills, he pours out a continuous stream of sound, composed of innumerable brief notes, high and shrill as those of a bat, wounding the ear with their excessive sharpness, and emitted so rapidly that the whole song is more like that of a cicada than of a bird. This piercing torrent of sound is broken at intervals by a long grave note, or half a dozen short rapid notes in a lower key, which come as an agreeable relief.

- 67 -In towns they build in walls, like the English Sparrow; in country places they always select the domed nest of some Dendrocolaptine species to breed in. Possibly in some districts where I have not been, this Sparrow selects other breeding-sites; my experience is that outside of a town it never lays anywhere but in some domed nest, and at home I frequently put up boxes for them in the trees, but they would not notice them, though the Wrens and Swallows were glad to have them. Sometimes they make choice of the large fabric of the Anumbius acuticaudatus, called Leñatero in the vernacular; but their claim to this nest (even when the Leñateros are out of it) is frequently disputed by other species which possess the same habit as this Sparrow, but are more powerful than he. Their favourite breeding-place is, however, the solid earthen structure of the Oven-bird; and it is wonderful to see how persistently and systematically they labour to drive out the lawful owners—birds so much larger and more powerful than themselves. Early in spring, and before the advent of the Tree-Martins, the pair of Sparrows begin haunting the neighbourhood of the oven they have elected to take possession of, usually one pretty high up in a tree. As the season advances their desire towards it increases, and they take up their position on the very tree it is in; and finally a particular branch near the oven, commanding a good view of the entrance, is chosen for a permanent resting-place. Here they spend a great portion of their time in song, twitterings, and loving dalliance, and, if attentively observed, they are seen with eyes ever fixed on the coveted abode. As the need for a receptacle for the eggs becomes more urgent they grow bolder, and in the absence of the owners flit about the oven, alight on it, and even enter it. The Oven-bird appears to drive them off with screams of indignation, but the moment he retires they are about it again, and, even when it contains eggs or young birds, begin impudently carrying in feathers, straws, and other materials for a nest, as if they were already in undisputed possession. At this stage the Tree-Martins (Progne tapera) perhaps appear to complicate matters; and even if these last comers do not succeed in ousting the Oven-birds, they are sure to seize the oven when it becomes vacant, and the Sparrows, in spite of their earlier claim, are left out in the cold. But they do not take their defeat quietly, or, rather, they do not know when they are beaten, but still remain to harrass their fellow-pirates, just as they did the Oven-birds before, bringing straws and feathers in their beaks, and when forced to drop these materials and chased from the neighbourhood with great noise and fury by the Tree-Martins, it is only to return undaunted in a few minutes, bringing more straws and feathers.

This Sparrow makes a rather large nest, neatly lined with horsehair,- 68 - and lays five eggs, long, pointed, the entire surface thickly marked with deep chocolate-brown.

In rural districts this species is comparatively rare, not more than one or two couples being seen about each habitation; and I scarcely think it would be too much to say that there are four or five thousand Chingolos for every individual Yellow Sparrow. Yet it is a hardy little bird, well able to hold its own, subsists on the same kind of food and lays as many eggs as the Zonotrichia; and it possesses, moreover, a great advantage over the dominant species in placing its nest out of the reach of the parasitical Molothrus, the destroyer of about fifty per cent. of the Chingolo’s eggs. I can only attribute the great disparity in the numbers of the two species to the fact that the Yellow House-Sparrow will breed only (out of towns) in nests not easily taken, and to the stubborn pertinacity which leads it to waste the season in these vain efforts, while the other species is rearing its brood. This is a blunder of instinct comparable to that of the Minera (Geositta cunicularia), mentioned by Darwin in the ‘Voyage of a Naturalist,’ where the bird made its hole in a mud wall a few inches wide, and on coming out on the other side simply went back and made another hole, and then another, unable to understand that the wall had not the requisite width.

In such a case as the Yellow House-Sparrow presents, in which the colour of the sexes differs, the female being without any of the brighter hues found in the male, and which makes an elaborate nest and lays deeply-coloured eggs, it is impossible not to believe that the bird originally built in exposed situations, and subsequently—perhaps in very recent times—acquired the habit of breeding in dark holes. The frequent destruction of the exposed nest, and an abundance of vacant domed nests, into which some individuals occasionally penetrated to breed, would lead to the acquisition of such a nesting-habit; for the birds inheriting it would have an advantage and be preserved, while those persisting in the old habit of building exposed nests would perish. Domed nests made by Dendrocolaptine birds are very abundant even now, and it is probable that, before the country became settled by Europeans, they were very much more numerous. Darwin, speaking of the Oven-bird’s habit of always placing its oven in the most conspicuous and (to man) accessible places, predicts, and truly I believe, that this habit will eventually cause the extinction of the species; for when the country becomes more thickly settled, the bird-nesting boys will destroy all the ovens. Probably when the Oven-birds were more abundant the Sparrows could always find vacant ovens to breed in, until a habit of breeding almost exclusively in these safe and convenient bird-built houses was acquired; and the present seemingly stupid- 69 - persistence of the birds in struggling to get possession of those already occupied by stronger species, only shows that the habit or instinct has not been modified to suit a change in the conditions—i. e. a diminishing number of ovens to breed in, with, perhaps, the increase of other stronger species possessing the same habit. But while the instinct thus survives too strongly in the country birds, many individuals have taken to a town life, and acquired the new habit of breeding in holes in brick walls. Probably this race of town birds will eventually colonize the rural districts, and usurp the place of the country birds, which will then be placed at a disadvantage.

Hab. Andes of Peru, Bolivia, and Argentina.

Prof. Burmeister obtained examples of this species near Mendoza. In my revision of the genus published in 1872, I referred the specimens (upon some of which Prof. Burmeister based his species S. chloropis) to S. uropygialis. I now find that this was an error, and that they really belong to S. lutea.—P. L. S.

Hab. S. America, from Colombia to Chili.

This is a slender, graceful bird, less than the Canary in size, the- 70 - whole upper plumage yellowish olive, with dun markings, the lower surface of a dull yellow. The female is a little smaller than the male, and her colours are somewhat dimmer.

This species is resident and gregarious in the Argentine Republic, and in autumn frequently congregates in flocks of several thousands. They are not so universally distributed as the Chingolo, and are not wood-birds, but frequent open plains abounding in thistles and other coarse herbage, which affords them shelter. In cultivated districts, where their food is most abundant, they are excessively numerous, and, after the harvest has been gathered, frequent the fields in immense flocks. While feeding, the flocks scatter over a large area of ground, being broken up into small companies of a dozen or more birds, and at such times are so intent on their food that a person can walk about amongst them without disturbing them. They take flight very suddenly, bursting into a thousand chirping, scolding notes, pursue each other through the air, and, after wheeling about the field for a minute or two, suddenly drop down into the grass again and are silent as before.

In August they begin to sing, here and there an individual being heard in the fields; but when the weather grows warmer they repair to the plantations in vast numbers, and, sitting on the branches, sing in a concert of innumerable voices, which produces a great volume of confused sound, and which often continues for hours at a time without intermission.

By-and-by these pleasant choirs break up, the birds all scattering over the plains and fields to woo and build, and it is then first discovered that the male has a peculiar and very sweet song. Apart from his fellows, he acquires a different manner of singing, soaring up from his stand on the summit of a bush or stalk, and beginning his song the moment he quits his perch. Ascending, he utters a series of long, melodious notes, not loud, but very distinctly enunciated and increasing in volume; at a height of fifty or sixty yards he pauses, the notes becoming slower; then, as he descends with a graceful spiral flight, the wings outstretched and motionless, the notes also fall, becoming lower, sweeter, and more impressive till he reaches the earth. After alighting the song continues, the notes growing longer, thinner, and clearer, until they dwindle to the merest threads of sound, and cease to be audible except to a person standing within a few yards of the songster. The song is quite unique in character, and its great charm is in its gradual progress from the somewhat thick notes at the commencement to the thin, tremulous tones with which the bird returns to earth, and which change again to the excessively attenuated sounds at the end.

The nest is deep, well-built, and well-concealed, sometimes resting on- 71 - the ground, but frequently raised above it. It contains five long, pointed eggs, with a white or bluish-white ground-colour, and thickly spotted with brown. I have, frequently found the eggs of the Molothrus in its nest, but have never been able to see this Sparrow feeding, or followed by, a young Molothrus. Possibly, if it ever hatches the parasitical egg at all, the voracious young Cow-bird is starved by the delicate food supplied by its foster-parents.

Hab. Tucuman.

Herr Schulz discovered this little Finch, which Dr. Cabanis has referred to a new genus allied to Sycalis, upon the high Sierras of Tucuman, where it was observed sitting on the stones.

The Icteridæ or Troupials constitute a large group of Passerine birds allied to our Starlings (Sturnidæ), of which they take the place in the New World. They are at once structurally distinguishable from the Starlings by having only 9 primaries in the wing, just as the Mniotiltidæ of the New World are in a similar manner distinguishable from the Sylviidæ.

In America the Icteridæ play an important part, numbering some 130 species, and extending throughout the two continents from north to south. Of these, 15 species occur in Argentina, and amongst them are three species of Cow-bird (Molothrus), remarkable for their parasitic habits, of which Hudson’s observations have enabled him to give a full and, for the first time, a tolerably complete account.

Hab. Peru, Bolivia, Brazil, Paraguay, and Northern Argentina.

Mr. Barrows obtained a single specimen of this species at Concepcion, and others were seen. It was said to be an excellent song-bird, and to be more abundant further up the Uruguay River.

Hab. Argentina, Paraguay, Bolivia, and Brazil.

This species is the Tordo Comun of Azara, and is usually called “Tordo” or “Pajaro Negro” by the Spanish, and “Blackbird” by the English-speaking Argentines. A more suitable name, I think, is the Argentine Cow-bird, which has been given to it by some writers on ornithology, Cow-bird being the name of the closely allied North-American species, Molothrus pecoris.

This Cow-bird is widely distributed in South America, and is common throughout the Argentine country, including Patagonia, as far south as Chupat. In Buenos Ayres it is very numerous, especially in cultivated districts where there are plantations of trees. The male is clothed in a glossy plumage of deep violaceous purple, the wings and tail being dark metallic green; but seen at a distance or in the shade the bird looks black. The female is inferior in size and has a dull, mouse-coloured plumage, and black beak and legs. The males are much more numerous than the females. Azara says that nine birds in ten are males; but I am not sure that the disparity is so great as that. It seems strange and contrary to Nature’s usual rule that the smaller,- 73 - shyer, inconspicuous individuals should be in such a minority; but the reason is perhaps that the male eggs of the Cow-bird are harder-shelled than the female eggs, and escape destruction oftener, when the parent bird exercises its disorderly and destructive habit of pecking holes in all the eggs it finds in the nests into which it intrudes.

The Cow-birds are sociable to a greater degree than most species, their companies not breaking up during the laying-season; for, as they are parasitical, the female merely steals away to drop her egg in any nest she can find, after which she returns to the flock. They feed on the ground, where in their movements and in the habit the male has of craning out its neck when disturbed, they resemble Starlings. The male has also a curious habit of carrying his tail raised vertically while feeding. They follow the domestic cattle about the pastures, and frequently a dozen or more birds may be seen perched along the back of a cow or horse. When the animal is grazing they group themselves close to its mouth, like chickens round a hen when she scratches up the ground, eager to snatch up the small insects exposed where the grass is cropped close. In spring they also follow the plough to pick up worms and grubs.

The song of the male, particularly when making love, is accompanied with gestures and actions somewhat like those of the domestic Pigeon. He swells himself out, beating the ground with his wings, and uttering a series of deep internal notes, followed by others loud and clear; and occasionally, when uttering them, he suddenly takes wing and flies directly away from the female to a distance of fifty yards, and performs a wide circuit about her in the air, singing all the time. The homely object of his short-lived passion always appears utterly indifferent to this curious and pretty performance; yet she must be even more impressionable than most female birds, since she continues scattering about her parasitical and often wasted eggs during four months in every year. Her language consists of a long note with a spluttering sound, to express alarm or curiosity, and she occasionally chatters in a low tone as if trying to sing. In the evening, when the birds congregate on the trees to roost they often continue singing in concert until it is quite dark; and when disturbed at night the males frequently utter their song while taking flight, reminding one of the Icterus pyrrhopterus, which has only its usual melody to express fear and other painful emotions. On rainy days, when they are driven to the shelter of trees, they will often sing together for hours without intermission, the blending of innumerable voices producing a rushing sound as of a high wind. At the end of summer they congregate in flocks of tens of thousands, so that the ground where they are feeding seems carpeted- 74 - with black, and the trees when they alight appear to have a black foliage. At such times one wonders that many small species on which they are parasites do not become extinct by means of their pernicious habit. In Buenos Ayres, where they are most numerous, they have a migration, which is only partial, however. It is noticeable chiefly in the autumn, and varies greatly in different years. In some seasons it is very marked, when for many days in February and March the birds are seen travelling northwards, flock succeeding flock all day long, passing by with a swift low undulating flight, their wings producing a soft musical sound; and this humming flight of the migrating Cow-birds is as familiar to every one acquainted with nature in Buenos Ayres as the whistling of the wind or the distant lowing of cattle.

The procreant instinct of this Molothrus has always seemed so important to me, for many reasons, that I have paid a great deal of attention to it; and the facts, or, at all events, the most salient of them, which I have collected during several years of observation, I propose to append here, classified under different headings so as to avoid confusion and to make it easy for other observers to see at a glance just how much I have learnt.

Though I have been familiar with this species from childhood, when I used to hunt every day for their wasted eggs on the broad, clean walks of the plantation, and removed them in pity from the nests of little birds where I found them, I have never ceased to wonder at their strange instinct, which in its wasteful destructive character, so unlike the parasitical habit in other species, seems to strike a discordant note in the midst of the general harmony of nature.

1. The Cow-birds, as we have seen, frequently waste their eggs by dropping them on the ground.

2. They also occasionally lay in old forsaken nests. This I have often observed, and to make very sure I took several old nests and placed them in trees and bushes, and found that eggs were laid in them.

3. They also frequently lay in nests where incubation has actually begun. When this happens the Cow-bird’s egg is lost if incubation is far advanced; but if the eggs have been sat on three or four days only, then it has a good chance of being hatched and the young bird reared along with its foster-brothers.

4. One female often lays several eggs in the same nest, instead of laying only one, as does, according to Wilson, the Molothrus pecoris- 75 - of North America. I conclude that this is so from the fact that in cases where the eggs of a species vary considerably in form, size, and markings, each individual of the species lays eggs precisely or nearly alike. So when I find two, three, or four eggs of the Cow-bird in one nest all alike in colour and other particulars, and yet in half a hundred eggs from other nests cannot find one to match with them, it is impossible not to believe that the eggs found together, and possessing a family likeness, were laid by the same bird.

5. Several females often lay in one nest, so that the number of eggs in it frequently makes incubation impossible. One December I collected ten nests of the Scissor-tail (Milvulus tyrannus) from my trees; they contained a total of 47 eggs, 12 of the Scissor-tails and 35 of the Cow-birds. It is worthy of remark that the Milvulus breeds in October or early in November, rearing only one brood; so that these ten nests found late in December were of birds that had lost their first nests. Probably three fourths of the lost nests of Milvulus are abandoned in consequence of the confusion caused in them by the Cow-birds.

6. The Cow-birds, male and female, destroy many of the eggs in the nests they visit, by pecking holes in the shells, breaking, devouring, and stealing them. This is the most destructive habit of the bird, and is probably possessed by individuals in different degrees. I have often carefully examined all the parasitical eggs in a nest, and after three or four days found that these eggs had disappeared, others, newly laid, being in their places. I have seen the female Cow-bird strike her beak into an egg and fly away with it; and I have often watched the male bird perched close by while the female was on the nest, and when she quitted it seen him drop down and begin pecking holes in the eggs. In some nests found full of parasitical eggs every egg has holes pecked in the shell, for the bird destroys indiscriminately eggs of its own and of other species.

After reading the preceding notes one might ask, If there is so much that is defective and irregular in the reproductive instinct of M. bonariensis, how does the species maintain its existence, and even increase to such an amazing extent? for it certainly is very much more numerous, over an equal area, than other parasitical species. For its greater abundance there may be many reasons unknown to us. The rarer species may be less hardy, have more enemies, be exposed to more perils in their long migrations, &c. That it is able to maintain its existence in spite of irregularities in its instinct is no doubt due to the fact that its eggs and young possess many advantages over the- 76 - eggs and young of the species upon which it is parasitical. Some of these advantages are due to those very habits of the parent bird which at first sight appear most defective; others to the character of the egg and embryo, time of evolution, &c.

1. The egg of the Cow-bird is usually larger, and almost invariably harder-shelled than are the eggs it is placed with; those of the Yellow-breast (Pseudoleistes virescens) being the one exception I am acquainted with. The harder shell of its own egg, considered in relation to the destructive egg-breaking habit of the bird, gives it the best chance of being preserved; for though the Cow-bird never distinguishes its own eggs, of which indeed it destroys a great many, a larger proportion escape in a nest where many eggs are indiscriminately broken.

2. The vitality or tenacity of life appears greater in the embryo Cow-bird than in other species; this circumstance also, in relation to the egg-breaking habit and to the habit of laying many eggs in a nest, gives it a further advantage. I have examined nests of the Scissor-tail, containing many eggs, after incubation had begun, and have been surprised at finding those of the Scissor-tail addled, even when placed most advantageously in the nest for receiving heat from the parent bird, while those of the Cow-bird contained living embryos, even when under all the other eggs, and, as frequently happens, glued immovably to the nest by the matter from broken eggs spilt over them.

The following instance of extraordinary vitality in an embryo Molothrus seems to show incidentally that in some species protective habits, which will act as a check on the parasitical instinct, may be in the course of formation.

Though birds do not, as a rule, seem able to distinguish parasitical eggs from their own, however different in size and colour they may be, they often do seem to know that eggs dropped in their nest before they themselves have began to lay ought not to be there; and the nest, even after its completion, is not infrequently abandoned on account of these premature eggs. Some species, however, do not forsake their nests; and though they do not throw the parasitical eggs out, which would seem the simplest plan, they have discovered how to get rid of them and so save themselves the labour of making a fresh nest. Their method is to add a new deep lining, under which the strange eggs are buried out of sight and give no more trouble. The Sisopygis icterophrys—a common Tyrant-bird in Buenos Ayres—frequently has recourse to this expedient; and the nest it makes being rather shallow the layer of fresh material, under which the strange eggs are buried, is built upwards above the rim of the original nest; so that this supplementary nest is like one saucer placed within another,- 77 - and the observer is generally able to tell from the thickness of the whole structure whether any parasitical eggs have been entombed in it or not. Finding a very thick nest one day, containing two half-fledged young birds besides three addled eggs, I opened it, removing the upper portion, or additional nest, intact, and discovered beneath it three buried Molothrus eggs, their shells encrusted with dirt and glued together with broken egg-matter spilt over them. In trying to get them out without pulling the nest to pieces I broke them all; two were quite rotten, but the third contained a living embryo, ready to be hatched, and very lively and hungry when I took it in my hand. The young Tyrant-birds were about a fortnight old, and as they hatch out only about twenty days after the parent-bird begins laying, this parasitical egg with a living chick in it must have been deeply buried in the nest for five or six weeks. Probably after the young Tyrant-birds came out of their shells and began to grow, the little heat from their bodies penetrating to the buried egg, served to bring the embryo in it to maturity; but when I saw it I felt (like a person who sees a ghost) strongly inclined to doubt the evidence of my own senses.

3. The comparatively short time the embryo takes to hatch gives it another and a great advantage; for, whereas the eggs of other small birds require from fourteen to sixteen days to mature, that of the Cow-bird hatches in eleven days and a half from the moment incubation commences; so that when the female Cow-bird makes so great a mistake as to drop an egg with others that have already been sat on, unless incubation be very far advanced, it still has a chance of being hatched before or contemporaneously with the others; but even if the others hatch first, the extreme hardiness of the embryo serves to keep it alive with the modicum of heat it receives.

4. Whenever the Molothrus is hatched together with the young of its foster-parents, if these are smaller than the parasite, as usually is the case, soon after exclusion from the shell they disappear, and the young Cow-bird remains sole occupant of the nest. How it succeeds in expelling or destroying them, if it indeed does destroy them, I have not been able too learn.

5. To all these circumstances favourable to the Molothrus may be added another of equal or even greater importance. It is never engaged with the dilatory and exhaustive process of rearing its own young; and for this reason continues in better condition than other species, and, moreover, being gregarious and practising promiscuous sexual intercourse, must lay a much greater number of eggs than other species. In our domestic fowls we see that hens that never become broody lay a great deal more than others. Some of our small birds rear two, others- 78 - only one brood in the season—building, incubation, and tending the young taking up much time, so that they are usually from two to three months and a half employed. But the Cow-bird is like the fowl that never incubates, and continues dropping eggs during four months and a half. From the beginning of September until the end of January the males are seen incessantly wooing the females, and during most of this time eggs are found. I find that small birds will, if deprived repeatedly of their nests, lay and even hatch four times in the season, thus laying, if the full complement be four, sixteen eggs. No doubt the Cow-bird lays a much larger number than that; my belief is that every female lays from sixty to a hundred eggs every season, though I have nothing but the extraordinary number of wasted eggs one finds to judge from.

Before dismissing the subject of the advantages the Molothrus possesses over its dupes, and of the real or apparent defects of its instinct, some attention should be given to another circumstance, viz., the new conditions introduced by land-cultivation and their effect on the species. The altered conditions have, in various ways, served to remove many extraneous checks on the parasitical instinct, and the more the birds multiply, the more irregular and disordered does the instinct necessarily become. In wild districts where it was formed, and where birds building accessible nests are proportionately fewer, the instinct seems different from what it does in cultivated districts. Parasitical eggs are not common in the desert, and even the most exposed nests there are probably never overburdened with them. But in cultivated places, where their food abounds, the birds congregate in the orchards and plantations in great numbers, and avail themselves of all the nests, ill-concealed as they must always be in the clean, open-foliaged trees planted by man.

There is an extraordinary diversity in the colour, form, and disposition of markings &c. of the eggs of M. bonariensis; and I doubt whether any other species exists laying eggs so varied. About half the eggs one finds, or nearly half, are pure unspotted white, like the eggs of birds that breed in dark holes. Others are sparsely sprinkled with such exceedingly minute specks of pale pink or grey, as to appear quite spotless until closely examined. After the pure white, the most common variety is an egg with a white ground, densely and uniformly spotted or blotched with red. Another not uncommon variety has a very pale, flesh-coloured ground, uniformly marked with fine characters, that look as if inscribed on the shell with a pen. A much rarer variety has a pure white shell with a few large or variously sized chocolate spots.- 79 - Perhaps the rarest variety is an egg entirely of a fine deep red; but between this lovely marbled egg and the white one with almost imperceptible specks, there are varieties without number; for there is no such thing as characteristic markings in the eggs of this species, although, as I have said before, the eggs of the same individual show a family resemblance.

Small birds of all species, when first hatched, closely resemble each other; after they are fledged the resemblance is less, but still comparatively great; grey, interspersed with brown, is the colour of most of them, or at least of the upper exposed plumage. There is also a great similarity in their cries of hunger and fear—shrill, querulous, prolonged, and usually tremulous notes. It is not, then, to be wondered at that the foster-parents of the young Molothrus so readily respond to its cries, understanding the various expressions denoting hunger, fear, pain, as well as when uttered by their own offspring. But the young Molothrus never understands the language of its foster-parents as other young birds understand the language of their real parents, rising to receive food when summoned, and concealing themselves or trying to escape when the warning note is given. How does the young Molothrus learn to distinguish, even by sight, its foster-parent from any other bird approaching the nest? It generally manifests no fear even at a large object. On thrusting my fingers into any nest, I find young birds, if still blind or but recently hatched, will hold up and open their mouths expecting food; but in a very few days they learn to distinguish between their parents and other objects approaching them, and to show alarm even when not warned of danger. Consider the different behaviour of three species that seldom or never warn their offspring of danger. The young of Synallaxis spixi, though in a deep domed nest, will throw itself to the ground, attempting thus to make its escape. The young of Mimus patagonicus sits close and motionless, with closed eyes, mimicking death. The young of our common Zenaida, even before it is fledged, will swell itself up and strike angrily at the intruder with beak and wings; and, by making so brave a show of its inefficient weapons, it probably often saves itself from destruction. But any thing approaching the young Molothrus is welcomed with fluttering wings and clamorous cries, as if all creatures were expected to minister to its necessities.

December 24.—To-day I found a young Molothrus in the nest of Spermophila cærulescens; he cried for food on seeing my hand approach the nest; I took him out and dropped him down, when, finding himself- 80 - on the ground, he immediately made off, half-flying. After a hard chase I succeeded in recapturing him, and began to twirl him about, making him scream, so as to inform his foster-parents of his situation, for they were not by at the moment. I then put him back in, or rather upon, the little cradle of a nest, and plucked half-a-dozen large measure-worms from an adjacent twig. The worms I handed to the bird as I drew them from the cases, and with great greediness he devoured them all, notwithstanding the ill-treatment he had just received, and utterly disregarding the wild excited cries of his foster-parents, just arrived and hovering within three or four feet of the nest.

Last summer I noticed a young Cow-bird in a stubble-field, perched on the top of a slender dry stalk; as it was clamouring at short intervals, I waited to see what bird would come to it. It proved to be the diminutive Hapalocercus flaviventris; and I was much amused to see the little thing fly directly to its larger foster-offspring and, alighting on its back, drop a worm into the upturned open mouth. After remaining a moment on its singular perch, the Flycatcher flew away, but in less than half a minute returned and perched again on the young bird’s back. I continued watching them until the Molothrus flew off, but not before I had seen him fed seven or eight times in the same manner.

In the foregoing anecdotes may be seen the peculiar habits of the young Molothrus. As the nests in which it is hatched, from those of the little Serpophaga and Wren to those of Mimus, vary so much in size and materials, and are placed in such different situations, the young Molothrus must have in most of them a somewhat incongruous appearance. But in the habits of the young bird is the greatest incongruity or inadaptation. When the nest is in a close thicket or forest, though much too small for the bird, and although the bird itself cannot understand its foster-parents, and welcomes all things that, whether with good or evil design, come near it, the unfitness is not so apparent as when the nest is in open fields and plains.

The young Molothrus differs from the true offspring of its foster-parents in its habit of quitting the nest as soon as it is able, trying to follow the old bird, and placing itself in the most conspicuous place it can find, such as the summit of a stalk or weed, and there demanding food with frequent and importunate cries. Thus the little Flycatcher had acquired the habit of perching on the back of its charge to feed it, because parent birds invariably perch above their young to feed them, and the young Cow-bird prevented this by always sitting on the summit of the stalk it perched on. The habit is most fatal on the open and closely cropped pampas inhabited by the Cachila (Anthus correndera).- 81 - In December, when the Cachila Pipit rears its second brood, the Milvago chimango also has young, and feeds them almost exclusively on the young of various species of small birds. At this season the Chimango destroys great numbers of the young of the Cachila and of Synallaxis hudsoni. Yet these birds are beautifully adapted in structure, coloration, and habits to their station. It thus happens that in districts where the Molothrus is abundant, their eggs are found in a majority of the Cachilas’ nests: and yet to find a young Cow-bird out of the nest is a rare thing here, for as soon as the young birds are able to quit the nest and expose themselves they are all or nearly all carried off by the Chimangos.

Darwin’s opinion that the “immediate and final cause of the Cuckoo’s instinct is that she lays her eggs not daily, but at intervals of two or three days” (‘Origin of Species’), carries no great appearance of probability with it; for might it not just as reasonably be said that the parasitic instinct is the immediate and final cause of her laying her eggs at long intervals? If it is favourable to a species with the instinct of the Cuckoo (and it probably is favourable) to lay eggs at longer intervals than other species, then natural selection would avail itself of every modification in the reproductive organs that tended to produce such a result, and make the improved structure permanent. It is said (‘Origin of Species,’ chapter vii.) that the American Cuckoo lays also at long intervals, and has eggs and young at the same time in its nest, a circumstance manifestly disadvantageous. Of the Coccyzus melanocoryphus, the only one of our three Coccyzi whose nesting-habits I am acquainted with, I can say that it never begins to incubate till the full complement of eggs are laid—that its young are hatched simultaneously. But if it is sought to trace the origin of the European Cuckoo’s instinct in the nesting-habits of American Coccyzi, it might be attributed not to the aberrant habit of perhaps a single species, but to another and more disadvantageous habit common to the entire genus, viz., their habit of building exceedingly frail platform-nests from which the eggs and young very frequently fall. By occasionally dropping an egg in the deep, secure nest of some other bird, an advantage would be possessed by the birds hatched in them, and in them the habit would perhaps become hereditary. Be this as it may (and the one guess is perhaps as wide of the truth as the other), there are many genera intermediate between Cuculus and Molothrus in which no trace of a parasitic habit appears; and it seems more than probable that the analogous instincts originated in different ways in the two genera. As regards the- 82 - origin of the instinct in Molothrus, it will perhaps seem premature to found speculations on the few facts here recorded, and before we are acquainted with the habits of other members of the genus. That a species should totally lose so universal an instinct as the maternal one, and yet avail itself of that affection in other species to propagate itself, seems a great mystery. Nevertheless, I cannot refrain from all conjecture on the subject, and will go so far as to suggest what may have been at least one of the many concurrent causes that have produced the parasitic instinct. The apparently transitional nesting-habits of several species, and one remarkable habit of M. bonariensis, seem to me to throw some light on a point bearing intimately on the subject, viz., the loss of the nest-making instinct in this species.

Habits vary greatly; were it not so, they would never seem so well adapted to the conditions of life as we find them, since the conditions themselves are not unchangeable. Thus it happens that, while a species seems well adapted to its state in its habits, it frequently seems not so well adapted in its relatively immutable structure. For example, without going away from the pampas, we find a Tringa with the habits of an upland Plover, a Tyrant-bird (Pitangus bellicosus) preying on mice and snakes, another Tyrant-bird (Myiotheretes rufiventris) Plover-like in its habits, and finally a Woodpecker (Colaptes campestris) that seeks its food on the ground like a Starling; yet in none of these—and the list might be greatly lengthened—has there been anything like a modification of structure to keep pace with the altered manner of life. But, however much the original or generic habits of a species may have become altered—the habits of a species being widely different from those of its congeners, also a want of correspondence between structure and habits (the last being always more suited to conditions than the first) being taken as evidence of such alteration—traces of ancient and disused habits frequently reappear. Seemingly capricious actions too numerous, too vague, or too insignificant to be recorded, improvised definite actions that are not habitual, apparent imitations of the actions of other species, a perpetual inclination to attempt something that is never attempted, and attempts to do that which is never done—these and other like motions are, I believe, in many cases to be attributed to the faint promptings of obsolete instincts. To the same cause many of the occasional aberrant habits of individuals may possibly be due—such as of a bird that builds in trees occasionally laying on the ground. If recurrence to an ancestral type be traceable in structure, coloration, language, it is reasonable to expect something analogous to occur in instincts. But even if such casual and often aimless motions as I have mentioned should guide us unerringly to the knowledge of the old and- 83 - disused instincts of a species, this knowledge of itself would not enable us to discover the origin of present ones. But assuming it as a fact that the conditions of existence, and the changes going on in them, are in every case the fundamental cause of alterations in habits, I believe that in many cases a knowledge of the disused instincts will assist us very materially in the inquiry. I will illustrate my meaning with a supposititious case. Should all or many species of Columbidæ manifest an inclination for haunting rocks and banks, and for entering or peering into holes in them, such vague and purposeless actions, connected with the facts that all Doves build simple platform-nests (like Columba livia and others that build on a flat surface), also lay white eggs (the rule being that eggs laid in dark holes are white, exposed eggs coloured), also that one species, C. livia, does lay in holes in rocks, would lead us to believe that the habit of this species was once common to the genus. We should conclude that an insufficiency of proper breeding-places, i. e. new external conditions, first induced Doves to build in trees. Thus C. livia also builds in trees where there are no rocks; but, when able, returns to its ancestral habits. In the other species we should believe the primitive habit to be totally lost from disuse, or only to manifest itself in a faint uncertain manner.

Now, in Molothrus bonariensis we see just such a vague, purposeless habit as the imaginary one I have described. Before and during the breeding-season the females, sometimes accompanied by the males, are seen continually haunting and examining the domed nests of some of the Dendrocolaptidæ. This does not seem like a mere freak of curiosity, but their persistence in their investigations is precisely like that of birds that habitually make choice of such breeding-places. It is surprising that they never do actually lay in such nests, except when the side or dome has been accidentally broken enough to admit the light into the interior. Whenever I set boxes up in my trees, the female Cow-birds were the first to visit them. Sometimes one will spend half a day loitering about and inspecting a box, repeatedly climbing round and over it, and always ending at the entrance, into which she peers curiously, and when about to enter starting back, as if scared at the obscurity within. But after retiring a little space she will return again and again, as if fascinated with the comfort and security of such an abode. It is amusing to see how pertinaciously they hang about the ovens of the Oven-birds, apparently determined to take possession of them, flying back after a hundred repulses, and yet not entering them even when they have the opportunity. Sometimes one is seen following a Wren or a Swallow to its nest beneath the eaves, and then clinging to the wall beneath the hole into which it disappeared. I- 84 - could fill many pages with instances of this habit of M. bonariensis, which, useless though it be, is as strong an affection as the bird possesses. That it is a recurrence to a long disused habit, I can scarcely doubt; at least, to no other cause that I can imagine can it be attributed; and, besides, it seems to me that if M. bonariensis, when once a nest-builder, had acquired the semiparasitical habit of breeding in domed nests of other birds, such a habit might conduce to the formation of the instinct which it now possesses. I may mention that twice I have seen birds of this species attempting to build nests, and that on both occasions they failed to complete the work. So universal is the nest-making instinct, that one might safely say the M. bonariensis had once possessed it, and that in the cases I have mentioned it was a recurrence, too weak to be efficient, to the ancestral habit. Another interesting circumstance may be adduced as strong presumptive evidence that M. bonariensis once made itself an open exposed nest as M. badius occasionally does—viz., the difference in colour of the male and female; for whilst the former is rich purple, the latter possesses an adaptive resemblance in colour to nests and to the shaded interior twigs and branches on which nests are usually built. How could such an instinct have been lost? To say that the Cow-bird occasionally dropped an egg in another bird’s nest, and that the young hatched from these accidental eggs possessed some (hypothetical) advantage over those hatched in the usual way, and that the parasitical habit so became hereditary, supplanting the original one, is an assertion without any thing to support it, and seems to exclude the agency of external conditions. Again the want of correspondence in the habits of the young parasite and its foster-parents would in reality be a disadvantage to the former; the unfitness would be as great in the eggs and other circumstances; for all the advantages the parasite actually possesses in the comparative hardness of the egg-shell, rapid evolution of the young, &c., already mentioned, must have been acquired little by little through the slowly accumulating process of natural selection, but subsequently to the formation of the original parasitical inclination and habit. I am inclined to believe that M. bonariensis lost the nest-making instinct by acquiring that semiparasitical habit, common to so many South-American birds, of breeding in the large covered nests of the Dendrocolaptidæ. We have evidence that this semiparasitical habit does tend to eradicate the nest-making one. The Synallaxes build great elaborate domed nests, yet we have one species (S. ægithaloides) that never builds for itself, but breeds in the nests of other birds of the same genus. In some species the nesting-habit is in a transitional state. Machetornis rixosa sometimes makes an elaborate- 85 - nest in the angle formed by twigs and the bough of a tree, but prefers, and almost invariably makes choice of, the covered nest of some other species or of a hole in the tree. It is precisely the same with our Wren, Troglodytes furvus. The Yellow House-Sparrow (Sycalis pelzelni) invariably breeds in a dark hole or covered nest. The fact that these three species lay coloured eggs, and the first and last very darkly coloured eggs, inclines one to believe that they once invariably built exposed nests, as M. rixosa still occasionally does. It may be added that those species that lay coloured eggs in dark places construct and line their nests far more neatly than do the species that breed in such places but lay white eggs. As with M. rixosa and the Wren, so it is with the Bay-winged Molothrus; it lays mottled eggs, and occasionally builds a neat exposed nest; yet so great is the partiality it has acquired for large domed nests, that whenever it can possess itself of one by dint of fighting, it will not build one for itself. Let us suppose that the Cow-bird also once acquired the habit of breeding in domed nests, and that through this habit its original nest-making instinct was completely eradicated, it is not difficult to imagine how in its turn this instinct was also lost. A diminution in the number of birds that built domed nests, or an increase in the number of species and individuals that breed in such nests, would involve M. bonariensis in a struggle for nests, in which it would probably be defeated. In Buenos Ayres the White-rumped Swallow, the Wren, and the Yellow Seed-finch prefer the ovens of the Furnarius to any other breeding-place, but to obtain them are obliged to struggle with Progne tapera; for this species has acquired the habit of breeding exclusively in the ovens. They cannot, however, compete with the Progne; and thus the increase of one species has, to a great extent, deprived three other species of their favourite building-place. Again, Machetornis rixosa prefers the great nest of the Anumbius; and when other species compete with it for the nest they are invariably defeated. I have seen a pair of Machetornis after they had seized a nest attacked in their turn by a flock of six or eight Bay-wings; but, in spite of the superior numbers, the fury of the Machetornis compelled them to raise the siege.

Thus some events in the history of our common Molothrus have perhaps been accounted for, if not the most essential one—the loss of the nest-making instinct from the acquisition of the habit of breeding in the covered nests of other birds, a habit that has left a strong trace in the manners of the species, and perhaps in the pure white unmarked eggs of so many individuals; finally, we have seen how this habit may also have been lost. But the parasitical habit of the M. bonariensis may have originated when the bird was still a nest-builder. The origin of the instinct may have been in the occasional- 86 - habit, common to so many species, of two or more females laying together; the progenitors of all the species of Molothrus may have been early infected with this habit, and inherited with it a facility for acquiring their present one. M. pecoris and M. bonariensis, though their instincts differ, are both parasitic on a great number of species; M. rufoaxillaris on M. badius; and in this last species two or more females frequently lay together. If we suppose that the M. bonariensis, when it was a nest-builder, or reared its own young in the nests it seized, possessed this habit of two or more females frequently laying together, the young of those birds that oftenest abandoned their eggs to the care of another would probably inherit a weakened maternal instinct. The continual intercrossing of individuals with weaker and stronger instincts would prevent the formation of two races differing in habit; but the whole race would degenerate, and would only be saved from filial extinction by some individuals occasionally dropping their eggs in the nests of other species, perhaps of a Molothrus, as M. rufoaxillaris still does, rather than of birds of other genera. Certainly in this way the parasitic instinct may have originated in M. bonariensis without that species ever having acquired the habit of breeding in the covered dark nests of other birds. I have supposed that they once possessed it only to account for the strange attraction such nests have for them, which seems like a recurrence to an ancestral habit.

Hab. Argentina and Uruguay.

This bird has no vulgar name, not being distinguished from the Common Cow-bird by the country people. The English name of Screaming Cow-bird, which I have bestowed on it, will, I think, commend itself as appropriate to those who observe this bird, for they will always and at any distance be able to distinguish it from the species it resembles so nearly by listening to its impetuous screaming notes, so unlike anything in the language of the Common Cow-bird.

- 87 -The Screaming Cow-bird is larger than the allied species. The female is less than the male in size, but in colour they are alike, the entire plumage being deep blue-black, glossy, and with purple reflections; and under the wing at the joint there is a small rufous spot. The beak is very stout, the plumage loose, and with a strong, musky smell; the œsophagus remarkably wide.

It is far less common than the other species of Molothrus, but is not rare, and ranges south to the Buenos-Ayrean pampas, where a few individuals are usually found in every large plantation; and, like the M. badius, it remains with us the whole year. It is not strictly gregarious, but in winter goes in parties, never exceeding five or six individuals, and in the breeding-season in pairs. One of its most noteworthy traits is an exaggerated hurry and bustle thrown into all its movements. When passing from one branch to another, it goes by a series of violent jerks, smiting its wings loudly together; and when a party of them return from the fields they rush wildly and loudly screaming to the trees, as if pursued by a bird of prey. They are not singing-birds; but the male sometimes, though rarely, attempts a song, and utters, with considerable effort, a series of chattering unmelodious notes. The chirp with which he invites his mate to fly has the sound of a loud and smartly-given kiss. His warning or alarm-note when approached in the breeding-season has a soft and pleasing sound; it is, curiously enough, his only mellow expression. But his most common and remarkable vocal performance is a cry beginning with a hollow-sounding internal note, and swelling into a sharp metallic ring; this is uttered with tail and wings spread and depressed, the whole plumage raised like that of a strutting turkey-cock, whilst the bird hops briskly up and down on its perch as if dancing. From its puffed-out appearance, and from the peculiar character of the sound it emits, I believe that, like the Pigeon and some other species, it has the faculty of filling its crop with air, to use it as a “chamber of resonance.” The note I have described is quickly and invariably followed by a scream, harsh and impetuous, uttered by the female, though both notes always sound as if proceeding from one bird. When on the wing the birds all scream together in concert.

The food of this species is chiefly minute seeds and tender buds; they also swallow large caterpillars and spiders, but do not, like their congeners, eat hard insects.

I became familiar, even as a small boy, with the habits of the Screaming Cow-bird, and before this species was known to naturalists, but could never find its nest, though I sought diligently for it. I could never see the birds collecting materials for a nest, or feeding their- 88 - grown-up young like other species, and this might have made me suspect that they did not hatch their own eggs; but it never occurred to me that the bird was parasitical, I suppose because in summer they are always seen in pairs, the male and female being inseparable. Probably this is the only parasitical species in which there is conjugal fidelity. I also noticed that, when approached in the breeding-season, the pair always displayed great excitement and anxiety, like birds that have a nest, or that have selected a site on which to build one. But year after year the end of the summer would arrive, the birds reunite in parties of half a dozen, and the mystery remain unsolved. At length, after many years, fortune favoured me, and while observing the habits of another species (Molothrus badius), I discovered by chance the procreant habits of the Screaming Cow-birds; and as these observations throw some light on the habits of M. badius, I think it best to transcribe my notes here in full.

A pair of Leñateros (Anumbius acuticaudatus) have been nearly all the winter building a nest on an acacia tree sixty yards from the house; it is about 27 inches deep, and 16 or 18 in circumference, and appears now nearly finished. I am sure that this nest will be attacked before long, and I have resolved to watch it closely.

September 28.—To-day I saw a Bay-wing (M. badius) on the nest; it climbed over it, deliberately inspecting every part with the critical air of a proprietor who had ordered its construction, taking up and rearranging some sticks and throwing others away from the nest. While thus engaged, two common Cow-birds (M. bonariensis), male and female, came to the tree; the female dropped on to the nest, and began also to examine it, peering curiously into the entrance and quarrelling with the first bird. After a few minutes she flew away, followed by her glossy consort. The Bay-wing continued its strange futile work until the owners of the nest appeared, whereupon it hopped aside in its usual slow leisurely manner, sang for a few moments, then flew away. The similarity in the behaviour of the two birds struck me very forcibly; in the great interest they take in the nests of other birds, especially in large covered nests, the two species are identical. But when the breeding-season comes their habits begin to diverge: then the Common Cow-bird lays in nests of other species, abandoning its eggs to their care; while the Bay-wings usually seize on the nests of other birds and rear their own young. Yet, as they do occasionally build a neat elaborate nest for themselves, the habit of taking possession of the nests of other birds is, most likely, a recently acquired one, and probably its tendency is to eradicate the original building instinct.

October 8.—This morning, while reading under a tree, my attention- 89 - was aroused by a shrill note, as of a bird in distress, issuing from the neighbourhood of the Leñatero’s nest; after hearing it repeated at intervals for over twenty minutes, I went to ascertain the cause. Two Bay-wings flew up from the ground under the nest, and on searching in the rank clover growing under the tree, I discovered the female Leñatero, with plumage wet and draggled, trembling and appearing half dead with the rough treatment she had experienced. I put her in the sun, and after half an hour, hearing her mate calling, she managed to flutter feebly away to join him. The persecutors had dragged her out of the nest, and would, no doubt, have killed her, had I not come so opportunely to the rescue.

Since writing the above, I have continued to watch the nest. Both the Bay-wings and Leñateros left it for some days. Six days after picking up the ill-treated female, the Leñateros came back and resumed possession. Four days later the Bay-wings also came back; but on finding the nest still occupied, they took possession of an unfinished oven of an Oven-bird on another tree within twenty yards of the first, and immediately began carrying in materials with which to line it. When they had finished laying I took their five eggs, at the same time throwing down the oven, and waited to see what their next move would be. They remained on the spot singing incessantly, and still manifesting anxiety when approached. I observed them four days, and then was absent from home as many more; on returning, I found that the Leñateros had once more disappeared, and that the nest was now held by the Bay-wings. I also noticed that they had opened an entrance very low down at the side of the nest which they were using; no doubt they had killed and thrown out the young Leñateros.

It was now early in November, the height of the breeding-season, and numbers of Common Cow-birds constantly visited the nest; but I was particularly interested in a pair of Screaming Cow-birds that had also began to grow fond of it, and I resolved to watch them closely. As they spent so much of their time near the nest, showing great solicitude when I approached it, I strongly hoped to see them breed in it, if the Bay-wings could only be got rid of. The Screaming Cow-birds would not, or dared not, attack them; and, as I always think that the worst possible use one can put a little bird to is to shoot it, I could not help them by destroying the Bay-wings. I therefore resolved to take their eggs, hoping that that would cause them to leave in disgust.

When I was satisfied from their movements that they had finished laying, I got up to the nest, and was astonished to find ten eggs instead of five, as I had confidently expected; for, though the Common Cow-birds- 90 - had paid a great deal of attention to the nest, I knew the Bay-wings would not allow them to lay in it.

The ten eggs in the nest were all unmistakably Bay-wing’s eggs; and having observed before that several females do occasionally lay together, I concluded that in this case two females had laid in the nest, though I had only seen two birds—male and female. After taking the ten eggs the Bay-wings still remained, and in a very short time they appeared to be laying again. When I had reason to think that the full complement was laid, I visited the nest and found five eggs in it; these I also took, and concluded that the second female had probably gone away, after having been deprived of her first clutch. During all this time the Screaming Cow-birds remained in the neighbourhood and occasionally visited the tree; but to my very great surprise the Bay-wings still stubbornly remained, and by-and-by I found that they were going to lay again—the fourth time! When I next visited the nest there were two eggs in it; I left them and returned three days later, expecting to find five eggs, but found seven! certainly more than one female had laid in the nest on this occasion. After taking these last seven eggs the Bay-wings left; and though the Screaming Cow-birds continued to make occasional visits to the nest, to my great disappointment they did not lay in it.

April 12.—To-day I have made a discovery, and am as pleased with it as if I had found a new planet in the sky. The mystery of the Bay-wings’ nest twice found containing over the usual complement of eggs is cleared up, and I have now suddenly become acquainted with the procreant instinct of the Screaming Cow-bird. I look on this as a great piece of good fortune; for I had thought that the season for making any such discovery was already over, as we are so near to winter.

The Bay-wings are so social in their habits that they always appear reluctant to break up their companies in the breeding-season; no sooner is this over, and while the young birds are still fed by the parents, all the families about a plantation unite into one flock. About a month ago all the birds about my home had associated in this way together, and went in a scattered flock, frequenting one favourite feeding-spot very much, a meadow about fifteen minutes’ walk from the house. The flock was composed, I believe, of three families, sixteen or eighteen birds in all: the young birds are indistinguishable from the adults; but I knew that most of these birds were young hatched late in the season, from their incessant strident hunger-notes. I first observed them about the middle of March. A week ago, while riding past the meadow where they were feeding, I noticed among them three individuals with purple spots on their plumage. They were at a- 91 - distance from me, and I naturally concluded that they were young Common Cow-birds (M. bonariensis), casually associating with the Bay-wings. I was surprised to see them, for the young male M. bonariensis always acquires the purple plumage before March, so that these individuals were changing colour five weeks after the usual time. To-day, while out with my gun, I came upon the flock, and noticed four of the birds assuming the purple plumage, two of them being almost entirely that colour; but I also noticed with astonishment that they had bay- or chestnut-coloured wings, also that those with least purple on them were marvellously like the Bay-wings in the mouse-coloured plumage of the body and the dark tail. I had seen these birds before the purple plumage was acquired, and there was then not the slightest difference amongst them, the adults and their supposed offspring being alike; now some of them appeared to be undergoing the process of a transmutation into another species! I at once shot the four spotted birds along with two genuine Bay-wings, and was delighted to find that the first were young Screaming Cow-birds.

I must now believe that the extra eggs twice found in the nest of the Bay-wings were those of the Screaming Cow-bird, that the latter species lays chiefly in the nests of the former, that the eggs of the two species are identical in form, size, and colour, each bird also laying five, and that, stranger still, the similarity is as perfect in the young birds as it is in the eggs.

April 15.—This morning I started in quest of the Bay-wings, and observed one individual, that had somehow escaped detection the day before, assuming the purple dress. This bird I shot; and after the flock had resettled a short distance off, I crept close up to them, under the shelter of a hedge, to observe them more narrowly. One of the adults was closely attended by three young birds; and these all, while I watched them, fluttered their wings and clamoured for food every time the old bird stirred on its perch. The three young birds seemed precisely alike; but presently I noticed that one of them had a few minute purple spots, and on shooting this one I found it to be a young M. rufoaxillaris, while the other two were true young Bay-wings.

The hunger-cry of the young M. badius (Bay-wing) is quite different from that of the young M. bonariensis: the cry of the latter is a long, shrill, two-syllabled note, the last syllable being prolonged into a continuous squeal when the foster-parent approaches with food; the cry of the young M. badius is short, reedy, tremulous, and uninflected. The resemblance of the young M. rufoaxillaris to its foster-brothers in language and plumage is the more remarkable when we reflect that the adult bird in its habits, gestures, guttural notes, also in its deep- 92 - purple plumage, comes much nearer to M. bonariensis than to M. badius. It seems impossible for mimicry to go further than this. A slight difference in size is quite imperceptible when the birds are flying about; while in language and plumage the keenest ornithologist would not be able to detect a difference. But it may be questioned whether this is really a case of an external resemblance of one species to another acquired by natural selection for its better preservation. Possibly the young M. rufoaxillaris, in the first stage of its plumage, exhibits the ancestral type—that of the progenitor of both species. If M. badius belonged to some other group—Sturnella or Pseudoleistes, for instance—it would scarcely be possible to doubt that the resemblance of the young M. rufoaxillaris to its foster-brothers resulted from mimicry; but as both species belong to the limited, well-defined group Molothrus, the resemblance may be ascribed to community of descent.

Formerly I believed that though M. badius is constantly seen rearing its own young, they also occasionally dropped their eggs in the nests of other birds. I could not doubt that this was the case after having witnessed a couple of their young following a Yellowbreast and being fed by it. I must now alter my opinion, for what then appeared to be proof positive is now no proof at all, for those two birds were probably the young of M. rufoaxillaris. There are, however, good reasons for believing that M. rufoaxillaris is parasitical almost exclusively on M. badius. I have spoken of the many varieties of eggs M. bonariensis lays. Those of M. badius are a trifle less in size, in form elliptical, densely and uniformly marked with small spots and blotches of dark reddish colour, varying to dusky brown; the ground-colour is white, but sometimes, though rarely, pale blue. It is not possible to confound the eggs of the two species. Now, ever since I saw, many years ago, the Yellowbreast feeding the supposed young Bay-wings, I have looked out for the eggs of the latter in other birds’ nests. I have found hundreds of nests containing eggs of M. bonariensis, but never one with an egg of M. badius, and, I may now add, never one with an egg of M. rufoaxillaris. It is wonderful that M. rufoaxillaris should lay only in the nests of M. badius; but the most mysterious thing is that M. bonariensis, indiscriminately parasitical on a host of species, never, to my knowledge, drops an egg in the nest of M. badius, unless it be in a forsaken nest! Perhaps it will be difficult for naturalists to believe this; for if the M. badius is so excessively vigilant and jealous of other birds approaching its nest as to succeed in keeping out the subtle, silent, grey-plumaged, omnipresent female M. bonariensis, why does it not also keep off the far rarer, noisy, bustling, conspicuously coloured M. rufoaxillaris? I cannot say. The only explanation that- 93 - has occurred to me is that M. badius is sagacious enough to distinguish the eggs of the common parasite, and throws them out of its nest. But this is scarcely probable, for I have hunted in vain under the trees for the ejected eggs; and I have never found the eggs of M. badius with holes pecked in the shells, which would have been the case had a M. bonariensis intruded into the nest.

With the results just recorded I felt more than satisfied, though so much still remained to be known; and I looked forward to the next summer to work out the rich mine on which I had stumbled by chance. Unhappily, when spring came round again ill-health kept me a prisoner in the city, and finding no improvement in my condition, I eventually left Buenos Ayres at the close of the warm season to try whether change of climate would benefit me. Before leaving, however, I spent a few days at home, and saw enough then to satisfy me that my conclusions were correct. Most of the birds had finished breeding, but while examining some nests of Anumbius I found one which Bay-wings had tenanted, and which for some reason they had forsaken leaving ten unincubated eggs. They were all like Bay-wings’ eggs, but I have no doubt that five of them were eggs of M. rufoaxillaris. During my rides in the neighbourhood I also found two flocks of Bay-wings, each composed of several families, and amongst the young birds I noticed several individuals beginning to assume the purple plumage, like those of the previous autumn. I did not think it necessary to shoot more specimens.

The question, why M. badius permits M. rufoaxillaris to use its nest, while excluding the allied parasite, M. bonariensis, must be answered by future observers; but before passing from this very interesting group (Molothrus) I wish to make some general remarks on their habits and their anomalous relations to other species.