At the Water’s Edge 
game, and some of the perches are so much 
more attractive than others, that a gunner will 
sometimes sleep all night under a tree, in order | 
to pre-empt the claim in the morning. 
Besides finding Cape May favorable for 
studying the various hawks, which are particu- 
larly abundant Kereabouts—one man telling me 
that he had shot fifty-six the day before, just 
for practice !—I had an opportunity of observ- 
ing one of the most repulsive species in the 
feathered kingdom—the turkey buzzard. We 
might say of it, as was once remarked in regard 
to a certain person’s conduct, ‘‘it is worse than 
sinful, it is vulgar.’’ And, as I saw these un- 
gainly creatures moping about on the beach, 
with unkempt plumage, tall but crouching fig- 
ures, round-shouldered, with snaky necks, and 
slinking, glittering eyes, coarse-visaged and 
stupid, and with a nauseous appetite, the sight 
struck me as the very quintessence of vulgarity. 
They are perfectly harmless, however, never 
capturing live animals, and serve a valuable, if 
disgusting, purpose, in converting into their 
own tissue carrion of every sort, for which 
we should be grateful that they have the 
taste. 
Yet, as we are enjoined to give even the 
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