(YPECAHA RAIL.)
+Aramides gigas+, _Burm. La-Plata Reise_, ii. p. 504 (Paraná).
+Aramides ypecaha+, _Scl. et Salv. Nomencl._ p. 139; _iid. P. Z.
S._ 1868, pp. 144, 448; _Hudson, P. Z. S._ 1876, p. 105 (Buenos
Ayres); _Durnford, Ibis_, 1877, p. 194 (Buenos Ayres); _Barrows,
Auk_, 1884, p. 276 (Entrerios).
_Description._--Above olive-green; neck red; front cinereous; rump
and tail black: beneath, throat white, breast and neck cinereous;
abdomen rosy red, lower belly and thighs grey; flanks and crissum
black; under wing-coverts rufous, with black cross bars; bill
yellow; feet red: whole length 19·0 inches, wing 8·5, tail 3·3.
_Female_ similar.
_Hab._ Brazil, Paraguay, and Argentina.
"Ypecaha" is the Guarani name, preserved by Azara, of this highly
interesting species; by the Spanish it is called "_Gallineta_," from
its supposed resemblance to a fowl. Without any brilliant tints, there
is yet something so pleasing to the eye in the various hues of its
plumage--light brown and drab colour, grey, buff, and black--all these
colours so harmoniously disposed, the effect heightened by the long
straight yellow beak, golden-red eye, and vermilion legs, that I do not
know a handsomer waterfowl.
These Rails are found as far south as the thirty-fifth parallel of
latitude, and are abundant along the marshy borders of the Plata,
frequenting the vast reed-beds and forests of water-loving _Erythrina
crista-galli_. Where they are never persecuted they are bold pugnacious
birds, coming out of the reeds by day and attacking the domestic poultry
about the houses and even in the streets of the villages situated on the
borders of their marshy haunts. But when compelled to place man on the
list of their enemies, it is a difficult matter to get a sight of one;
for, like all birds that rise laboriously, they are vigilant to excess,
and keep themselves so well concealed that the sportsman may pass
through their haunts every day of the year, and the Ypecaha still be
to him no more than a "wandering voice." But even persecution does not
entirely obliterate a certain inquisitive boldness which characterizes
them. Usually they roam singly in quest of food, but have reunions
in the evening and occasionally during the day, especially in gloomy
weather. On misty days they often wander to a distance from the covert,
walking with an easy, somewhat stately grace, jerking the tail at every
stride, and running with a velocity no man can equal. Where there are
woods they usually fly, when disturbed, into a tree; and it is in
connexion with this habit that the Ypecaha sometimes makes a curious
mistake in places where it has not been much shot at. One day, while
pushing my way through a dense growth of rushes, I saw two Ypecahas not
fifteen yards from me, on the horizontal branch of a tree, to which
they had evidently flown for safety. I was anxious to secure them,
but surprised at their temerity; and wishing to find out its cause, I
approached them still nearer, and then stood for some time observing
them. It was easy to see that they fancied themselves quite safe from
me while off the ground. In the most unconcerned manner they continued
strutting up and down along the branch, jerking their tails, and turning
about this way and that, as if to tantalize their baffled enemy by
ostentatiously displaying their graces.
When surprised on the open ground the Ypecaha lies close, like a
Tinamou, refusing to rise until almost trodden upon. It springs up with
a loud-sounding whirr, rushes violently through the air till, gaining
the reeds, it glides a few yards and then drops: its flight is thus
precisely like that of the Tinamou, and is more sounding and violent
than that of the Grouse or Partridge. On spying an intruder it
immediately utters a powerful cry, in strength and intonation not unlike
that of the Pea-fowl. This note of alarm is answered by other birds at
a distance as they hastily advance to the spot where the warning was
sounded. The cry is repeated at irregular intervals, first on one
side, then on the other, as the birds change their position to dog
the intruder's steps and inspect him from the reeds. I have surprised
parties of them in an open space, and shot one or more; but no sooner
had the survivors gained their refuge than they turned about to watch
and follow me, sounding their powerful alarm the whole time. I have
frequently been followed half a mile through the rushes by them, and by
lying close and mimicking their cries have always succeeded in drawing
them about me.
But the Ypecaha's loudest notes of alarm are weak compared with the
cries he utters at other times, when, untroubled with a strange
presence, he pours out his soul in screams and shrieks that amaze the
listener with their unparalleled power. These screams, in all their
changes and modulations, have a resemblance to the human voice, but of
the human voice exerted to its utmost pitch, and expressive of agony,
frenzy, and despair. A long piercing shriek, astonishing for its
strength and vehemence, is succeeded by a lower note, as if in the first
one the creature had well-nigh exhausted itself. The double scream is
repeated several times; then follow other sounds, resembling, as they
rise and fall, half-suppressed cries of pain and moans of anguish.
Suddenly the unearthly shrieks are renewed in all their power. This is
kept up for some time, several birds screaming in concert; it is renewed
at intervals throughout the day, and again at set of sun, when the
woods and marshes resound with the extravagant uproar. I have said that
several birds unite in screaming; this is invariably the case. I have
enjoyed the rare pleasure of witnessing the birds at such times; and the
screams then seem a fit accompaniment to their disordered gestures and
motions.
A dozen or twenty birds have their place of reunion on a small area of
smooth clean ground surrounded by reeds; and by lying well concealed and
exercising some patience, one is enabled to watch their proceedings.
First one bird is heard to utter a loud metallic-sounding note, three
times repeated, and somewhat like the call of the Guinea-fowl. It
issues from the reeds, and is a note of invitation quickly responded
to by other birds on every hand as they all hurriedly repair to the
customary spot. In a few moments, and almost simultaneously, the birds
appear, emerging from the reeds and running into the open space, where
they all immediately whirl about and begin the exhibition.
Whilst screaming they rush from side to side as if possessed with
frenzy, the wings spread and agitated, the beak wide open and raised
vertically. I never observed them fight or manifest anger towards each
other during these performances; and, knowing the pugnacious spirit of
the Ypecahas, and how ready they are to seek a quarrel with birds of
other species, this at first surprised me, for I was then under the
mistaken impression that these gatherings were in some way related to
the sexual instinct.
Whilst watching them I also remarked another circumstance. When
concealing myself amongst the rushes I have been compelled to place
myself so disadvantageously, owing to the wet ground, that any single
bird straying accidentally into the open space would have discovered
my presence immediately; yet the birds have entered and finished their
performance without seeing me, so carried away are they by the emotion
that possesses them during these moments. But no sooner has the wild
chorus ended than, aware of my presence, they have fled precipitately
into the reeds.
We frequently speak of our familiarity with the habits of the species we
have long and carefully observed in a state of nature; yet the knowledge
so gained must necessarily be exceedingly imperfect, for with many shy
vigilant birds it is next to impossible to see them without being seen;
and no bird, conscious of being watched, will act unconstrainedly any
more than a human being with clouded reputation will comport himself
naturally with the eyes of a detective on him. While we are observing
the bird, the bird watches us: of all its curious doings when we are out
of its sight and mind we see nothing. The only way to learn the habits
of a species like the Ypecaha--wary, intelligent, and passing its life
behind a screen of rushes--is to domesticate it; for although in this
state some instincts are blunted and others remain in abeyance, they are
not obliterated. It might surprise some that I speak of the Ypecaha as
an intelligent bird, since it is a member of the "stupid family," as
Professor Parker has called the Rails; but in spite of the very profound
admiration I feel for that illustrious anatomist, I believe he is wrong
about these birds: there is, to my mind, very much more stupidity in the
Auserine and Limicoline families, while the Ypecaha has always seemed to
me a singularly intelligent bird.
Fortunately Azara was able to give an account of one of these birds
in a domestic state, which shows that it makes a very sprightly and
entertaining, although a mischievous pet. It was taken young and allowed
to run about at liberty with the poultry at the house of a village
doctor in Paraguay. When full-grown it was very domineering, and became
the tyrant of the poultry-yard. Occasionally a cock had the courage to
face it, and then a singular combat would ensue: the Ypecaha, moving
with astonishing rapidity, putting its head low down, would charge, and,
thrusting its head between the cock's legs, fling him instantly on his
back, then rain a shower of blows on his breast before he could rise. It
was fond of eggs, and always knew when a hen went off to lay, cautiously
following her to the nest and then concealing itself at some distance to
wait. As soon as the egg was dropped it would run, pick it up with its
beak, and carry it away to a safe distance, and then, breaking a hole
in the shell at one end, suck out the contents without spilling a drop.
Sometimes, when the hen remained too long on the nest, it would lose
its temper and, driving her off, pursue her with the greatest animosity
about the grounds, administering correction with its sharp beak. Not
satisfied with devouring all the eggs laid by the doctor's fowls, it
visited all the neighbours' houses, doing so much damage that at length
the poor doctor, afraid perhaps that his practice would suffer, had the
troublesome bird put to death.
This Ypecaha would never allow any one to touch it, but it would come
into the house and search through all the rooms for thimbles, scissors,
and other small metal objects, and these it would carry away to conceal
them among the weeds or else bury them in the mud. It was also a good
mouser, and after killing a mouse with a blow from its beak would
swallow it entire.