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Updated: July 21, 2025
"They're night-birds, and we've started them before their usual feeding-time. Those are the South American oil-birds." "Yes, I remember," cried Brace. "They breed in the caves round Trinidad, I've read." "That's right. Well, we don't want to try whether they're good to eat. This way, my lads," he continued, as Dan and three of the men came up to make the fire and start cooking.
For all at once there arose a peculiar rushing sound, and as everyone crouched as low as he could, he was conscious of the whistling of wings in rapid flight and the ammoniacal odour of a great stream of birds passing over them to reach the outlet from the passage into the open air. "It's all right, lads," shouted Briscoe. "It's only a flock of oil-birds that we have disturbed.
This was answered twice at a distance, while again and again overhead there was the flutter and swish of wings, probably those of the oil-birds circling about the mouth of the cavern. "It's all over," said Briscoe at last, "and it's night-birds of some kind, I believe. Here, I've been listening so intently that I've forgotten my cigar.
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