no WILD WINGS 



Some one asked me if I love all birds. Certainly I do, from 

 the grebe to the thrush, hissing young woodpeckers, thiev- 

 ing crows, naked, skinny young cormorants — yes, and buz- 

 zards. There is plenty that is admirable and interesting in 

 them all. 



Every one who visits the South is impressed with the grace- 

 ful flight of the buzzards. There are no finer tiyers among 

 jjirds. Mounted aloft, they soar and float so easily and airily 

 that it is restful to watch them. There is no symptom of our 

 restless spirit of rush. Their movements blend with the sur- 

 roundings, a sleepy atmosphere, an ardent sun. Probably 

 thev would not soar by the hour if much effort were involved. 

 But after they are started, there is nothing to do but to keep 

 the great wings extended, and by instinctive balancing direct 

 the wav, letting the air-currents do the rest. A Southern 

 landscape without buzzards would be quite incomplete. 



The observer should learn to distinguish between the two 

 species — the Turkey Buzzard or Vulture, and the Black 

 Buzzard or \'ulture, the latter also being called Carrion Crow. 

 The former is the more common and more widely distributed. 

 The other is more a maritime species, though it also fre- 

 quents the neighborhood of large rivers, notably the Missis- 

 sippi. The Turkey Buzzard is also the more graceful flyer, 

 and, though dark of plumage, is of a browner cast than the 

 others. The Black Buzzard is a heavier, more stocky bird, 

 and has to flap mc^re and harder to keep itself afloat. 



Both of these birds, though tame enough about human 

 habitation, are somewhat shy off in the wilds. So, on my first 

 real acquaintance with them, in Florida, I was rather hard 

 put to it to secure good photographs. I would meet them 

 along the East Coast Railway, perched on telegraph poles, 

 or on stubs by the Indian River, and generally they would 

 flv before I wanted them to. Once I managed to rig my 



