During the two months before starting from Asuncion, in Paraguay, for our journey into the interior, I was kept so busy that I had scant time to think of natural history.  But in a strange land a man who cares for wild birds and wild beasts always sees and hears something that is new to him and interests him.  In the dense tropical woods near Rio Janeiro I heard in late October—­springtime, near the southern tropic—­the songs of many birds that I could not identify.  But the most beautiful music was from a shy woodland thrush, sombre-colored, which lived near the ground in the thick timber, but sang high among the branches.  At a great distance we could hear the ringing, musical, bell-like note, long-drawn and of piercing sweetness, which occurs at intervals in the song; at first I thought this was the song, but when it was possible to approach the singer I found that these far-sounding notes were scattered through a continuous song of great melody.  I never listened to one that impressed me more.  In different places in Argentina I heard and saw the Argentine mocking-bird, which is not very unlike our own, and is also a delightful and remarkable singer.  But I never heard the wonderful white-banded mocking-bird, which is said by Hudson, who knew well the birds of both South America and Europe, to be the song-king of them all.

Most of the birds I thus noticed while hurriedly passing through the country were, of course, the conspicuous ones.  The spurred lapwings, big, tame, boldly marked plover, were everywhere; they were very noisy and active and both inquisitive and daring, and they have a very curious dance custom.  No man need look for them.  They will look for him, and when they find him they will fairly yell the discovery to the universe.  In the marshes of the lower Parana I saw flocks of scarlet-headed blackbirds on the tops of the reeds; the females are as strikingly colored as the males, and their jet-black bodies and brilliant red heads make it impossible for them to escape observation among their natural surroundings.  On the plains to the west I saw flocks of the beautiful rose-breasted starlings; unlike the red-headed blackbirds, which seemed fairly to court attention, these starlings sought to escape observation by crouching on the ground so that their red breasts were hidden.  There were yellow-shouldered blackbirds in wet places, and cow-buntings abounded.

But the most conspicuous birds I saw were members of the family of tyrant flycatchers, of which our own king-bird is the most familiar example.  This family is very numerously represented in Argentina, both in species and individuals.  Some of the species are so striking, both in color and habits, and in one case also in shape, as to attract the attention of even the unobservant.  The least conspicuous, and nevertheless very conspicuous, among those that I saw was the bientevido, which is brown above, yellow beneath, with a boldly marked black and white head,