Francis had remarkable eyesight, and when he once realized that I was interested in small birds and other objects he would silently point out everything in our path. In this way I found a remarkable frog which was so protected by its color and markings that I should never have discovered it by myself. I have mentioned it before as being of good size, earthern brown in color, with a tall, thin leaf-like ridge on the head over each eye and a row of light-grey tubercles like fringe down each side of the body. From the tip of the nose to the tail extended a narrow, pale bluish line and externally there seemed to be almost no differentiation between head and body. I heard Red-billed Toucans[81] calling in a high tree and stalking them, succeeded in shooting two, both males, one younger than the other. The coloring of their beaks was wonderfully brilliant and variegated. Their notes were of the Robin-song type, _Phéo-pha!_ although the resemblance to a puppy’s voice was also strong. They had been feeding on seeds with a pinkish pulp which Francis called suluwafaddy. There were three Toucans in this group and when the first old bird was shot the others returned and called continuously and loudly. The third also came back to the same tree and I found that this was the adult female. In this case as always, I did not take the life of a living creature without some good reason: for sport, never—but either as food, or as in this instance as the only way to solve a problem of scientific interest. I had noticed trios of Toucans in many places and wondered whether the third bird was an extra female or young. On the following day I observed no fewer than five separate trios of Toucans of two species, and now that I knew the dull-colored upper tail-coverts were a clue to the young bird of the year, my high power stereo glasses showed me a single young in each instance. We know practically nothing of the nesting habits of this group except from vague accounts. So it is certain that in this region the rule is that only one young bird is reared to maturity. The loud hollow whirring of the wings of these birds often drew our eyes up to the tree-tops and we had many opportunities of watching them feed. The commonest way was for them to creep out as far as they dared to the branch tips and then crane their necks and bills to reach the fruit. But often they adopted a more spectacular method. A trio would beat heavily into a berry-laden tree and perch quietly a few moments, looking carefully in all directions for danger, overhead for hawks and eagles, beneath and around for monkeys, opossums and snakes. Then one would launch out, make a flying leap at a pendent cluster of fruit, clutch it frantically with its feet, and dangle and sway for ten seconds at a time—reaching out the while and filling its bill with the berries. Then when the bird dropped exhausted to a branch below, it would swallow what it had gathered.