The Potoo is not unfrequently seen in the evening, taking its station soon after sunset on some dead tree or fence-post, or floating by on noiseless wing, like an owl, which the common people suppose it to be. Its plumage has the soft puffy, unwebbed character which marks that of the owls, and which prevents the impact of its wings upon the air from being audible, notwithstanding the power and length of those organs. Now and then it is seen by day; but it is half concealed in the bushy foliage of some thick tree, which it can with difficulty be induced to quit, distrustful of its powers by day. As it sits in the fading twilight it ever and anon utters a loud and hoarse _ho-hoo_, and sometimes the same syllables are heard, in a much lower tone, as if proceeding from the depth of the throat. The first specimen that fell under my observation was shot in October. On several evenings in succession a large bird had been observed sitting on a particular post near Bluefields Tavern, where it remained undisturbed by passers looking at it, though it was not half a stone’s cast from the road-side. At length Sam shot at it, and blew out many feathers, but it flew slowly off to the woods; uttering, the instant after it was shot, a low croaking. The next evening he watched again, and about sunset the bird returned to the same post, when he secured it. It is interesting to observe the similarity in habit to the Flycatchers in selecting a prominent station, and returning again and again to it, even after such annoyance. It was one out of many posts of a rail-fence, yet the bird uniformly chose the same. Another was given me a few weeks afterwards, which had been struck down with a stone, as it was sitting on a tree in the yard around a negro’s house. It had been in the habit of stationing itself there every evening, and its cries, which were described to me as resembling the mewing of a cat in pain, were so plaintive, that they seem to have acted on the good woman’s superstition, who begged her husband to kill it. I incline to think, however, that the voice here mentioned was not that of the Potoo, but of an Eared Owl which may have been near it, but in the darkness unobserved. This specimen lived a day or two in the house, after it was knocked down, and when it died it was brought to me. I found its stomach, a muscular gizzard, distended with large beetles, (_Megasoma titanus_,) disjointed. That of the former contained two specimens of a black _Phanæus_. Another, a male, shot in the day time, in February, had the stomach hard stuffed with fragments of insects, which, on being dispersed in water, I found to consist wholly of beetles, among which limbs of _lamellicorns_ were conspicuous, probably _Phanæus_. In this case the stomach was more membranous; the œsophagus very wide and substantial as in the Owls, but there was no dilatation or proventriculus.