anero.

With many of the feathered race, he pays the common tribute of a morning
and an evening song; and even when the meridian sun has shut in silence
the mouths of almost the whole of animated nature, the campanero still
cheers the forest. You hear his toll, and then a pause for a minute,
then another toll, and then a pause again, and then a toll, and again a
pause. Then he is silent for six or eight minutes, and then, another
toll, and so on. Actaeon would stop in mid chase, Maria would defer her
evening song, and Orpheus himself would drop his lute to listen to him,
so sweet, so novel, and romantic is the toll of the pretty snow-white
campanero. He is never seen to feed with the other cotingas, nor is it
known in what part of Guiana he makes his nest.

While cotingas attract your attention by their superior plumage, the
singular form of the toucan makes a lasting impression on your memory.
There are three species of toucans in Demerara, and three diminutives,
which may be called toucanets. The largest of the first species
frequents the mangrove-trees on the sea-coast. He is never seen in the
interior till you reach Macoushia, where he is found in the neighbourhood
of the river Tacatou. The other two species are very common. They feed
entirely on the fruits of the forest, and though of the pie kind, never
kill the young of other birds or touch carrion. The larger is called
bouradi by the Indians (which means "nose"), the other, scirou. They
seem partial to each other's company, and often resort to the same
feeding tree, and retire together to the same shady noon-day retreat.
They are very noisy in rainy weather at all hours of the day, and in fair
weather, at morn and eve. The sound which the bouradi makes is like the
clear yelping of a puppy dog, and you fancy he says, "pia-po-o-co," and
thus the South American Spaniards call him piapoco.

All the toucanets feed on the same trees on which the toucan feeds, and
every species of this family of enormous bill lays its eggs in the hollow
trees. They are social, but not gregarious. You may sometimes see eight
or ten in company, and from this you would suppose they are gregarious;
but, upon a closer examination, yon will find it has only been a dinner
party, which breaks up and disperses towards roosting-time.

You will be at a loss to conjecture for what ends nature has overloaded
the head of this bird with such an enormous bill. It cannot be for the
off