In perfect accord with our expectations, there was little bird-life on the cheerless _lomas_. A few blue tanagers and _Veinte-vi_ flycatchers (_Pitangus_) lived in the bushes that lined the infrequent rivulets trickling through narrow gullies between the hills. The _Veinte-vi_ was an old acquaintance; its cheery call is one of the first bird-notes to greet the ear of the visitor to tropical South America. Its local name varies with the locality, and is an attempt by the natives to imitate the bird’s cry. Thus it ranges from _Kiss-ka-dee_ and _Veinte-vi_ to _Dios te di_ and _Christi fui_. This flycatcher is of a rather vivacious disposition, and pairs of them frequently may be seen singing together and beating their wings on the branches. As a general rule these birds are of peaceful habits, except when nesting; but I have frequently seen them in pursuit of a carrion hawk at which they darted viciously and continued to follow until lost to view. The diet of the _Veinte-vi_ is varied, and the bird is most versatile in capturing its prey. Thus it will sit on a perch above a brook and plunge in after small fish or tadpoles, somewhat in the manner of a kingfisher; it may hover over a field and drop upon an unsuspicious mouse, lizard, or small snake; beetles, grasshoppers, and other insects are overtaken and captured on the wing. When a victim of some size has been captured, it is beaten rapidly upon a branch until its life is hammered out. It also hops about in fields looking for worms and grubs. The nest is a huge domed structure, made of grasses and often wool, and placed in the branches of a tree six to fifteen feet up. Entrance is gained through an opening in one side, near the top. On account of the great size of the structure, being about twelve or fifteen inches high and eight to ten inches thick, it is very conspicuous; the exterior is carelessly made, with grasses and streamers of nesting material hanging down on all sides. The eggs, two to five in number, although four seem to constitute the usual set, are long and pointed, cream-colored, and lightly spotted with chocolate-brown and purple blotches--mostly on the larger end. Besides these species, there were ground-doves, lapwings, and an occasional sparrow-hawk. The latter is so similar to our common little terror of the air that it is hard to distinguish between the two. Shortly after noon we encountered one of the most terrific tropical storms imaginable. Hour after hour a perfect deluge of rain poured down upon us from which rubber _ponchos_ afforded little protection. Flashes of lightning pierced the semiblackness with blinding shafts of light, followed by deafening crashes of thunder--an indication that we were approaching the high zone of bleak mountain slopes and paramos.