Sloths were rare near the village, as it had long been a favorite Sunday amusement to go out and bring in one or more of these defenceless creatures for dinner. But tree porcupines (_Sphingurus prehensilis_), with bare, prehensile tails and faces like little manatees, were common, as were those gentle little creatures of the night, kinkajous (_Cercoleptes caudivolvulus_), or “couchi-couchis” as the Indians call them. Catching porcupines and sloths is about as exciting sport as picking blackberries; the porcupine being too confident in its battery of spines to attempt to escape; the sloth relying with pathetic faith on its wonderful resemblance to a bunch of moss or leaves. The “English Sparrows” of the village were beautiful olive-green Palm Tanagers[144] and great sulphur-breasted Flycatchers[102] which shrieked _Kiss-ka-dee!_ at you as you passed by. The French in Trinidad tell you that the bird says _Qu’est-ce-qu’il-dit?_ but the Spaniard, true to his poetic temperament, says, “_No, Señor, el pájaro dice ‘Cristofué!’_” which seemed especially appropriate at this Easter season. Every day one or two wild Chachalacas[7] would fly from the jungle to an open space near one of the huts and feed fearlessly with the chickens for an hour or longer. [Illustration: FIG. 18. WILD CHACHALACA NEAR A GUANOCO HUT.] To our northern minds the most remarkable thing was the innumerable variety of all forms of life. Seldom did we find many individuals of any one species, but always there was a constantly changing panorama. We would make a careful list of birds seen near our house, noting certain ones for future study, and the following day scarcely one of these would be visible, but in their place birds of strange form and colors. The same was true of the insects and the result was as bewildering as it was fascinating. Our habits of observation had all to be changed. Except when birds were actually nesting, we could never be sure of seeing the same species twice, although there was never any doubt that each day would add many new forms to our lists. Though we tramped for miles along the narrow Indian trails and spent many days in swamps and dark jungles, yet we were troubled scarcely at all with noxious insects. “Jiggers” there were in moderate numbers but one could “collect” more in one day in Virginia than in a month here at this season. During our entire stay we saw only about three or four minute ticks, while mosquitoes were absent, except at night. If we dug in rotten logs, we were sure to unearth centipedes and scorpions, many of them,—but otherwise we rarely saw them. Once, indeed, a mother scorpion (_Centrurus margaritatus_) with half a hundred young ones on her back was discovered in a shoe, bringing to mind the old nursery rhyme. [Illustration: FIG. 19. SCORPION AND ITS YOUNG TAKEN FROM MILADY’S SHOE.]