During the daytime, the Goatsucker, whose eyes, like those of the owl, are too delicately formed to bear the light, retires to the deepest recesses of the forest, but when the sun has sunk behind the western woods, he may, on moonlight nights, be seen silently hovering in the forest glades, or hopping about among the herds. This poor bird has the character of a nocturnal thief, but never has a more unjust accusation been made, as, far from robbing the flocks of their milk, he does all he can to free them from insects. ‘See how the nocturnal flies are tormenting the herd,’ says Waterton, ‘and with what dexterity he springs up, and catches them, as fast as they alight on the belly, legs, and udder of the animals. Observe how quiet they stand, and how sensible they seem of his good offices, for they neither strike at him, nor hit him with their tail, nor tread on him; nor try to drive him away as an uncivil intruder. Were you to dissect him, and inspect his stomach, you would find no milk there: it is full of the flies which have been annoying the herd.’ The large tropical nocturnal butterflies, or moths, form the chief food of the wide-beaked Goatsucker, and the number of their wings that may be seen lying about, give proof of the ravages he commits among their ranks. For as the bat with his hooked thumb cuts off the wings of the moths and cockchafers which he catches on his twilight excursions, thus, also, the Goatsucker refrains from swallowing these parts, and his hooked and incurvated upper mandible seems purposely intended for clipping them. While the Goatsucker makes the forest resound with his funereal tones, other birds of the forest pour forth the sweetest notes. Dressed in a sober cinnamon brown robe, with blackish olive-coloured head and neck, the Organist (_Troglodytes leucophrys_) enlivens the solitude of the Peruvian forests. The astonished wanderer stops to listen to the strain, and forgets the impending storm. The Cilgero, a no less delightful songster, frequents the mountain regions of Cuba, and the beauty of his notes may be inferred from the extravagant price of several hundred dollars, which the rich Havanese are ready to pay for a captive bird. Wagner (‘Travels in Costa Rica,’ 1854) tells us that our nightingale is far inferior to the Cilgero, who entertains his mate with the softest tones of the harmonica, and in Guiana the flute-bird (_Cyphorinus cantans_) delights the ear with his melodious song. All these lovely musicians of the grove belong to the extensive finch tribe, and, like their European cousins, appear in a simple unostentatious garb.