In the deep forests of Guiana and Brazil, which they never quit for the open plains, reside the Manakins (_Pipra_), pretty little birds, whose largest species scarcely attain the dimensions of the sparrow, while the smallest are hardly equal to the wren. The plumage of the full-grown male is always black, enlivened by brilliant colours, that of the female and of the young birds greenish. Their flight is rapid but short, and they generally roost on the middle branches of the trees. In the morning they unite in little troops, and seek their food, which consists of insects, and small fruit, uttering at the same time their weak but melodious notes. As the day advances they separate and seek the deepest forest-shades, where they live in solitude and silence. The famous orange-coloured Cock of the Rock of Guiana (_Rupicola aurantia_), which owes its name to its comb-like crest, is nearly related to the Manakins. It is a great rarity, even in its own country, and as it dwells in the most secluded forests, is but seldom seen by travellers. Richard Schomburgk relates the following wonderful story of the bird, which, if not proceeding from so trustworthy a source, might almost be considered fabulous. ‘A troop of these beautiful birds was celebrating its dances on the smooth surface of a rock; about a score of them were seated on the branches as spectators, while one of the male birds, with proud self-confidence, and spreading tail and wings, was dancing on the rock. He scratched the ground or leaped vertically into the air, continuing these saltatory movements until he was tired, when another male took his place. The females, meanwhile, looked on attentively, and applauded the performance of the dancers with laudatory cries. As the feathers are highly prized, the Indians lay in wait with their blow-pipes near the places where the Rupicolas are known to dance. When once the ball has begun, the birds are so absorbed by their amusement, that the hunter has full time to shoot down several of the spectators with his poisoned arrows, before the rest take the alarm.’