202 DIARY OF A SPORTSMAN NATURALIST 



planing down to earth, the rendezvous is probably a dead 

 animal. All round the horizon, vulture on vulture will be 

 noted, drawing in and planing down to the spot. But the 

 vultures will not venture down to the kill. They are heavy 

 birds and can only resume flight after landing by taking a 

 short run accompanied by a vigorous flapping of great 

 wings before they can launch themselves into the air and 

 soar upwards. Consequently, unhke the agile crow, the 

 vulture would, if he had the temerity to come down, risk 

 a buffet and death at the hands of the carnivorous owner, 

 should he suddenly appear. The vultures sit round in the 

 trees and wait. Amongst the mammals the jackal and 

 hyena are ever on the look-out for a vicarious meal. An 

 individual of either of these species may shnk out of the 

 neighbouring thicket, approach the kill in a furtive manner, 

 and have a hurried pull or two at it — then start away a few 

 paces, with ears laid back and lips drawn up in a snarhng 

 grin — the very embodiment of cowardly fear. A shriU 

 warning from the crows overhead that the owner is approach- 

 ing, true or untrue (how the crows must enjoy sounding a 

 false alarm to these skulking brutes !) and the craven 

 intruder fades away into the forest. 



More rarely a wild cat may turn up. He is bolder and 

 will make something of a meal of it, if given an ordinary 

 chance, and will continue his stolen feast longer, even after 

 he reahzes that the owner is approaching ; but this may be 

 due to the fact that the cat is of the same family as the tiger 

 and leopard and therefore can more accurately gauge the 

 exact moment at which it will be imperative to leave his 

 cousin's neighbourhood. 



Whilst sitting in the machan and watching this daily life of 

 the forest, a most amusing comedy when one is able to follow 

 the words, one has often been led astray by the crows — had 

 the leg pulled, in vulgar parlance — and sat ready for the 

 appearance of the owner before he has been anywhere near. 

 For when he is on the move and advancing towards his kill 

 from the spot where he has been lying up during the day, 

 there is usually no mistake about the matter. He advances 

 with an overhead escort which shouts out his title and the 

 fact that, temporarily at least, he owns this bit of jungle. 

 Birds of all degree shriek excitedly as he passes, or flutter 

 overhead, keeping pace with his line of march. The crows 

 are loudest in their homage, for they hope to have the 



