File:Our search for a wilderness; an account of two ornithological expeditions to Venezuela and to British Guiana (1910) (14729517516).jpg

Identifier: oursearchforwild00nile (find matches)
Title: Our search for a wilderness; an account of two ornithological expeditions to Venezuela and to British Guiana
Year: 1910 (1910s)
Authors: Niles, Blair Beebe, William, 1877-1962
Subjects: Natural history Birds
Publisher: New York, H. Holt and company

View Book Page: Book Viewer
About This Book: Catalog Entry
View All Images: All Images From Book
Click here to view book online to see this illustration in context in a browseable online version of this book.

Text Appearing Before Image:
ning to the evening call of the HornedScreamer,41 a bird known to us only from books. The night sounds from the lagoon are full of mystery.Sea-cows souse and roll in the river and apparently at thevery landing. Otters play and cough and utter gaspingsighs which make ones flesh creep until we learn what theyare. The legend of the Warracabra Tigers, which Water-ton and all after him recount, may well have had its originin these great river mammals, who are noisy, fearless andsometimes reach a length of six feet. A beautiful skin whichI brought home measures five and a half feet from nose tolip of tail. Water-haas, or capybaras, probably add theirshare to the confusion, but the major part of the medley isclue to crocodiles, who wait until night before beginningtheir active, noisy business of life, which, be it concernedwith food, mate or play, requires a vast deal of splashingand bellowing. This latter is a dee)) abrupl roaring likethe final roars of a lions cadence. An eight-foot croco-
Text Appearing After Image:
THE LIFE OF THE ABARY SAVANNAS. 383 dale was shot in the lagoon a few days before, or rather shotat, as the beast seemed to be none the worse. Small wonder that, when we consider snakes, crocodiles,otters and voracious fishes, that the gentle Vicissi Ducksprefer the safer vegetation of the marsh itself! The realbirds of night were few — but with voices weird and awe-some, in perfect harmony with this unpeopled waste. Apair of Parauque-like beings who in uttering liquid accentsreiterated their names, mingled with the ever tragic tonedquestioning of another Goatsucker, pleading with us to endhis agonized uncertainty — Who-are-you ? Whb-are-you ? Early on the morning of our last day, April 15th, I awokeand peered out through the dimness of my muslin hammocknet to catch the first hint of dawn. The east soon becamelighter and the warp and woof of the cloth softened and dis-guised the scene which stretched before me from the edgeof the veranda. As I lay there half awake, I seemed to see

Note About Images