being the Patagonian parrot, _Conarus patagonus_, the _Loro
barranquero_ or Cliff Parrot of the natives. In my early years this
bird was common on the treeless pampas extending for hundreds of miles
south of Buenos Ayres as well as in Patagonia, and bred in holes it
excavated in cliffs and steep banks at the side of lakes and rivers.
These breeding-sites were far south of my home, and I did not visit
them until my boyhood's days were over.

In winter these birds had a partial migration to the north: at that
season we were visited by flocks, and as a child it was a joy to me
when the resounding screams of the travelling parrots, heard in the
silence long before the birds became visible in the sky, announced
their approach. Then, when they appeared flying at a moderate height,
how strange and beautiful they looked, with long pointed wings and
long graduated tails, in their sombre green plumage touched with
yellow, blue, and crimson colour! How I longed for a nearer
acquaintance with these winter visitors and hoped they would settle on
our trees! Sometimes they did settle to rest, perhaps to spend half a
day or longer in the plantation; and sometimes, to my great happiness,
a flock would elect to remain with us for whole days and weeks,
feeding on the surrounding plain, coming at intervals to the trees
during the day, and at night to roost. I used to go out on my pony to
follow and watch the flock at feed, and wondered at their partiality
for the bitter-tasting seeds of the wild pumpkin. This plant, which
was abundant with us, produced an egg-shaped fruit about half the size
of an ostrich's egg, with a hard shell-like rind, but the birds with
their sharp iron-hard beaks would quickly break up the dry shell and
feast on the pips, scattering the seed-shells about till the ground
was whitened with them. When I approached the feeding flock on my pony
the birds would rise up and, flying to and at me, hover in a compact