“Meat, meat!” they said. “Now we will have fresh meat to eat.” “What are they, turtles?” David asked, then answered his own question. “They can’t be. Look at the bright colors.” “They are birds,” someone said. “All kinds of parrots.” “Parrots? What are they doing in the mud?” “Eating it, of course.” “And you expect me to believe that? There are a good many things I don’t know about your country, but I do know that parrots don’t eat mud.” “It’s the truth”; it was Miguel who strove to show his superior knowledge. “They come each year when the water is low and gorge themselves on the fresh mud. There is salt or something of that kind in it and they come to get that.” They were now near enough to the ledge so that a good view of the birds could be had. There were large groups of them that must have totaled thousands of individuals. Many different species were abundantly represented. There were red and blue macaws of great size; large green parrots with yellow heads; parrokeets no larger than an English sparrow; and many of intermediate dimensions. Almost every hue of the rainbow could be seen in the assortment. But standing out from the motley array was a group of the magnificent hyacinthine macaws. Much to the surprise of David the birds were not alarmed upon the approach of the launch. Ordinarily so wary, they paid not the slightest attention to the oncoming, noisy craft, but continued delving deeply into the mire with their hooked beaks. “The mud makes them stupid,” they explained when he asked the reason for the seeming indifference, “or else they get drunk on it. Anyway, they can’t fly away. That’s why we are going to have all the fresh meat we can eat for a few days.” When the launch reached the ledge the men leaped ashore with poles in their hands and clambered into the midst of the groups of birds. A few took wing, circled once or twice and then came back to their old places; a number of others ran about aimlessly, obviously bewildered, but unable to seek safety in flight. The vast majority, however, did not notice the men, who began clubbing them with their poles. David revolted at the sight, but was powerless to prevent the slaughter, in which, however, he took no part. “I’m going to have one for a pet, though,” he thought, “one of the big blue ones.” He threw his coat over a hyacinthine macaw and carried it back to the launch where he deposited it on the deck. When he removed the covering the bird struggled to its feet and stood blinking at him in a dazed manner. How wonderful it was! It measured nearly four feet from the tip of its hooked beak to the end of its tail, and was of a uniform deep blue color. The bill was of enormous proportions, fully three inches deep, the upper mandible ending in a sharp, hooked point, the lower fitting into it like a keen-edged scoop. He had not imagined that such a creature existed.