A gentle cool breeze was blowing down the narrow valley and the blood from cleaning the animal had not been exposed five minutes when a line of burying beetles and yellow wasps began coming up-wind to the feast. Such a summons calls them far and wide from their vantage points on leaves and branches, where we see them so frequently in walking through the jungle. Before fifteen minutes had passed, an Orange-headed Vulture[52] appeared soaring over the little opening in ever lessening circles. He too had responded, but as much by sight as by scent, to the welcome meal. On the way home we frightened a group of large weasel-like creatures which we found to be Tayras (_Galictis barbara_) or, as the natives call them, Hackas. Seven ran rapidly away snarling and I secured one. They had been feeding on big grubs which they had nosed out among the dead leaves, a rather remarkable occupation for creatures of the fierce Mustelidæ family. The fur was dark-brown with a white spot on the breast, while the tail was long and bushy. Before we reached the clearing a Quadrille Bird[125] sang to us from the heart of a tangled swamp, a new theme differing from any I had heard: [Music] During the four mile walk to the clearing there was hardly a minute when we were out of sight or sound of birds. Big Blue Tinamou[1] and Jacupeba Guans[5] boomed up before us; Woodpeckers and Manakins of several species called and flew here and there, while we passed flock after flock of Antbirds, Woodhewers, Flycatchers and Tanagers. One bird which I secured, the Wallace Olive Manakin,[112] was altogether of a dull olive, with none of the brilliant color patches of its congeners. When I went to pick up the specimen I saw a curious jointed band lying across it and found a six-inch centipede on the bird. The Manakin must have fallen across the path of the Myriapod as it was crawling over the jungle floor. While wrapping up this bird, a flock of tiny Brown-fronted Jungle Vireos[128a] flew close to us, uttering a song like a diminutive alarm clock, _Whirrrrrrrrrrr-chee! Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrr-chee!_ Francis shot one, which was hardly more than four inches in length, olive-green above, paler below. Those who think that all tropical birds are brightly colored should see the great number of species of sober little fellows like these. MARCH 31st.—Francis and I started out in a light rain at daybreak in search of Trumpeters and howling monkeys. The cook was well supplied with meat so we did not intend to bother with game. With the help of Goeldi’s plates of Brazilian birds and much crude attempt at sketching I had taught Francis what creatures I wished especially to see.