I lO 
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 flyers among 
birds. Mounted aloft, they soar and float so easily and airilv 
that it is restful to watch them. There is no symjDtom of our 
restless spirit of rush. Their movements blend with the sur¬ 
roundings, a sleepy atmosphere, an ardent sun. Probably 
they would not soar by the hour if much eft'ort were involved. 
But after they are started, there is nothing to do but to keep 
the great wings extended, and l^y instinctive balancing direct 
the way, letting the air-currents do the rest. A Southern 
landscape without buzzards would be quite incomplete. 
The observer should learn to distinguish l^etween the two 
species — the Turkey Buzzard or Vulture, and the Black 
Buzzard or Vulture, the latter also being called Carrion Crow. 
The former is the more common and more widely distributed. 
The other is more a maritime sj^ecies, though it also fre- 
(pients the neighborhood of large rivers, notably the Missis- 
si jopi. 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 more 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 generallv they would 
fly before I wanted them to. Once I managed to rig my 
