e astonished hunter then
believes that he is in the vicinity of his companions, or, perhaps, of
hostile Indians. He eagerly listens, and it is only when well acquainted
with the sounds of the winged inhabitants of the woods that he can
recognise the melancholy tones of the wood-pigeons (_C. infuscata_,
Licht.; _C. melancholica_, Tsch.). When day begins to depart, groups of
the pheasant-like Hachahuallpa[88] assemble, and with the cry of _Ven
aca_, _Ven aca_,[89] summon their distant companions.

Not only are the trees of the forests peopled with myriads of birds,
but the earth has also its feathered inhabitants, who seldom soar
above the level of the soil. They build their nests among the roots
and fallen branches, and depend for movement more on their feet than
on their wings. Among those members of the winged tribe, who show no
disposition to soar into the regions of air, we find here the
turcassa, a pigeon with richly-shaded plumage; the beautifully
speckled toothed fowl (_Odontophorus speciosus_, Tsch.), and
short-tailed grass fowl, or crake,[90] whose flesh when cooked is
delicately white and finely flavored. In marshy places and on the
slimy banks of rivers, the jabiru (_Mycteria americana_, L.) loves to
wade, together with the rose-colored spoon-bill (_Platalea ajaja_,
L.); the fish-devouring ibis (_Tantalus loculator_, L.), the
curved-billed snipe (_Rhynchoea Hilaerea_, Val.), the party-colored
cranes, plovers, land-rails, shrites, and even sea-swallows.[91] In
the rivers there are ducks: these birds are, perhaps, carried down by
the currents from the Andes, or, possibly, they fly in great trains
from the inner waters of Brazil.

Of the amphibia in the principal forests of Peru, only the great
fresh-water tortoise (_Hydraspis expansa_, Fitz.) is useful to the
natives. On the sandy banks of rivers this animal buries its eggs, from
which the Indians extract oil: its flesh, also, supplies well-flavored
food. All other animals of this class are objects of terror, or at least
of aversion, to the Indians. In the warm sand of the river banks, lies
the lazy caiman.[92] He keeps his jaws wide open, only closing them to
swallow the innumerable flies which he catches on his tongue. To the
helplessness of these animals when on land, the natives have to be
thankful that they are not the most dangerous scourges of the forest: in
water, their boldness and swiftness of motion are fearful. The number of
lizards here is not gre