180 Mr Audubon ofi the Habits of the Turkey Buzzard. 



by misfortune, and follow it with keen perseverance, until the 

 loss of life has rendered it their prey. A poor old emaciated 

 horse or ox, the deer mired on the margin of the lake, where 

 the timid animal has resorted to escape flies and musquitoes so 

 fatiguing in summer, is seen in distress with exultation by the 

 buzzard. He immediately alights, and if the animal does not 

 extricate itself, waits and gorges in peace on as much of the 

 flesh as the nature of the spot will allow. They do more, they 

 often watch the young kid, the lamb, and the pig issuing from 

 the mother's womb, and attack it with direful success ; yet, not- 

 withstanding this, they frequently pass over a healthy horse, hog, 

 or other animal, lying, as if dead, basking in the sunshine, with- 

 out even altering their course in the least. Judge then^ my 

 dear Sir, how well they must see. 



Opportunities of devouring young living animals are so very 

 frequent around large plantations in this country, that to de- 

 ny them would be ridiculous, although I have heard it attempt- 

 ed by European writers. 



During the terrifying inundations of the Mississippi, I have 

 very frequently seen many of those birds alight on the dead 

 floating bodies of animals, drowned by the water in the low 

 lands, and washed by the current, gorging themselves at the 

 expence of the Squatter, who often loses the greater portion of 

 his wandering flocks on such occasions. 



Dastardly with all, and such cowards are they, that our 

 smaller hawks can drive them off any place ; the little king 

 bird proves, indeed, a tyrant whenever he espies the large ma- 

 rauder sailing about the spot where his dearest mate is all in- 

 tent on incubation ; and the eagle, if hungry, will chace him, 

 force him to disgorge his food in a moment, and to leave it at 

 his disposal. 



Many of those birds accustomed, by the privileges granted 

 them by law, of remaining about the cities and villages in our 

 southern states, seldom leave them, and might almost be called 

 a second set, differing widely in habits from those that reside 

 constantly at a distance from these places. Accustomed to be fed, 

 they are still more lazy ; their appearance exhibits all the non- 

 chalance belonging to the garrisoned half paid soldier. To move 

 is for them a hardship, and nothing but extreme hunger will 



