Early in the morning the roaring of the monkeys would awaken us, and after a hasty breakfast we would start out in our little boat. At this time everything is dripping and fresh with dew, and there is a bite and tang in the air which reminds us of Canadian dawns. It is still dusk, and the lines of mangroves on either side show only as black walls. For some minutes hardly a sound breaks the stillness except the distant roars and the drip, drip of our paddles. Then a sudden splashing and breaking of branches shows that we are discovered by a pair or more of capybaras (_Hydrochoerus capybara_), those enormous rodents which would pass as guinea pigs in Gulliver’s land of giants. Now an overhanging branch drenches us as we brush against it, and as it is pushed aside a whole armful of orchids comes away, the pure white blossoms (_Epidendrum fragrans_) filling the caño with their sweetness. Now the delicate foliage of a palm is silhouetted for a moment against the brightening eastern sky, and a mass of great convolvulus blossoms shines out from the shore. By this we know that we are not many miles from dry ground, and other growths are already beginning to dispute the dominance of the mangroves. [Illustration: FIG. 10. WHITE ORCHIDS.] Silence again, to be broken by one of the most remarkable and startling outbursts of sound which any living creature in the world can utter. A series of unconnected sighs, shrieks, screams, and metallic trumpet-like notes suddenly breaking forth apparently within thirty feet, is surely excuse enough for being startled. The hubbub ceases as abruptly as it began; then again it breaks out, now seeming to come from all directions, even from overhead. The author of all this is the Chachalaca[7]—a bird not larger than a common fowl, but with a longer tail. It spends most of its time on the ground or among the lower branches of the trees in the swamps. It was seldom that we caught sight of one, but we shall never forget the first time we heard their diabolical chorus. The sun’s rays now light up the narrow path of water ahead of us, and a thousand creatures seem to awaken and give voice at once. Two splendid Yellow and Blue Macaws[61] fly high overhead, their screams softened by the distance; a flock of great white-billed, Red-crested Woodpeckers[88] drum and call; from the bank comes the rolling cry of the Tinamou and the sweet, penetrating double note of the Sun-bittern[24]; Hummingbirds squeak in their flight as they shake the dew-drops from the orchids above us; squirrels with fur of orange and gray scramble through the branches, fleeing before the little capuchin monkeys. Then, one after another, three splendid Swallow-tailed Kites[58] dash past us at full speed, brushing the surface of the water and floating upward again.