We started up the stream in an open ballyhoo of smaller size, at first with paddles, but changing to poles when the water became shallower. Snags, or tacubas as is the more euphonious native name, became abundant and sometimes stretched far out over our heads. Flying fish skimmed in all directions and vampires (_Desmodus rufus_) in scores flew from the dead branches projecting from the water. They choose a small-sized one, say two inches in diameter, and alight, one below the other, with heads raised, watching us. Like little animated sun-dials they revolve on their perches as the sun passes over, keeping the wood between them and the bright light. Many of the snags had bits of dead leaves and other débris clinging to them, brought down and lodged by the last freshet, and it was not until we almost put our hand on them and the bats flew, that we could tell whether we were looking at a cluster of vampires or dead leaves. There were hundreds throughout the course of the river, so it is a wide-spread diurnal roosting habit of these fierce little creatures. The blacks in this part of the country call the vampires “Dr. Blairs,” after a certain colonial doctor of the olden times whose favorite method of treatment was blood-letting. Swallows in the early morning filled the air above the river with a cloud of rapidly moving forms. Orchids in full bloom were abundant, long shoots of Golden Showers, the sweet _Epidendrum odoratum_ and many others unknown to us, all drenched with dew and filling the river canyon with fragrance. Three species of Kingfishers[67][68][69] and big Yellow-bellied Trogons[76] appeared now and then. The trees were taller than any we had yet seen, many of the moras and cumacas being much over a hundred feet from base to top. [Illustration: FIG. 116. SHOOTING THE RAPIDS AT FULL SPEED.]