Birds were not quite so numerous as at the Pilcomayo, but we found several forms new to us. Among them was a large, white-fronted parrakeet (_Myiopsitta luchsi_) that we saw in no other place. It banded in flocks of ten to fifty and seemed to prefer the fruit-trees near the house. A species of humming-bird built nests in doorways and suspended under the thatched roofs of houses, often in the midst of a colony of swallows (_Atticora_). Tinamou were not uncommon in the dry ravines and provided a welcome change from the goat-flesh which is the staple meat of the people and the only kind we could purchase; the latter animals were killed when very young (about the size of a cat), and we could never become enthusiastic over this, locally considered, great delicacy. In a region such as the country around Pulqué, there are few available nesting-sites, and nests are very conspicuous objects when placed in a cactus or thorny bush; however, the sharp thorns and spines with which they are surrounded protect them, alike from predatory animals and humans. The disused mud nests of oven-birds are collected as needed and made into a poultice that is supposed to cure stomachache. Judging by the quantity they gathered, this ailment must be of frequent occurrence. A bird of the wood-hewer family (_Upucerthia_) excavated burrows in banks and deposited two white eggs in a small, feather-lined nest placed in a roomy chamber at the end of the tunnel. The _señora_ at whose _rancho_ we stopped complained that tiger-cats were killing her chickens; so one afternoon I set a steel trap at the base of a near-by stone wall, baiting it with a dead bird. I had not gone a dozen paces from the spot when the trap sprung with a loud twang, securely imprisoning the much-sought culprit. The cat’s greed had overcome its discretion, at which we rejoiced, for it made a desirable addition to our collection. On another occasion one of these beautiful animals bounded out from under the roots of a huge tree and seized a bird as I was stooping to pick it up--and made a clean getaway to its hiding-place with the spoils. Our hosts on the Cachimayo were awaiting us, in order that we might be present at the ushering in of the “month of baths,” as December is called in this part of Bolivia. Whether or not they thought we were in need of the daily ablutions, I am unable to say; but this I do know, that we shocked the good people on numerous occasions by having a swim at every possible opportunity, even if the month was not in keeping with local traditions. Peras Pampa is an immense estate on both sides of the Cachimayo, and but an hour’s trip by motor from Sucre. We spent a delightful ten days amid pleasant surroundings, living in a comfortable bungalow, and passing the evenings at the _casa grande_ where the elite of Sucre’s society gathered for music, games, and dancing.