THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS. 27 



and watched our own sea-gulls do the very same in windy- 

 weather, when returning from the fields in the evening on their 

 way to roost on the sands at Tentsmuir. They soar and 

 wheel in space for miles, as far as the eye can reach them, 

 without napping their wings, and seem to have the power of 

 even heating against the wind, by pressing their wings and tail 

 and turning them to certain angles. And we all know that one 

 of our most effective sails in the teeth of the wind is the old 

 wing-shaped lug-sail of the fisherman. But no human invention 

 can touch the sailing powers of the bird. 



Mr A. T. Peal, writing recently from Assam about the 

 adjutant bird, the clumsy-looking pelican, and other allied 

 species, states that " they rise by flapping the wings vigorously 

 until they reach a height of about a hundred feet. Then, if 

 there is a breeze, they soar in wide, circular sweeps, the bird 

 being otherwise motionless, and the wings extended rigidly." 

 This soaring, he says, "goes on without the slightest flapping of 

 the wings until the bird is almost out of sight." But the most 

 remarkable, probably, of all the sailing birds is the condor of the 

 Andes, the largest flying creature. It trails its wings on the 

 ground when walking, and is as awkward as the swan on land. 

 Xo bird has more difficulty in launching itself on its proper 

 element, and unless it has room to take a run it cannot rise at 

 all. [Our own little, long-winged swift has the same difficulty in 

 rising from a level surface.] This is made use of by the natives : 

 They place a dead mule on the brink of a steep ravine, where 

 the condors soon collect ; and, in their eagerness to devour the 

 carcass, invariably push it over the cliff. The hungry birds also 

 descend into the gorge, but from it (after their meal) they are 

 unable to rise, and so become an easy prey to the crafty 

 mountaineers. Once clear of the surface, however, no bird rises 

 so high. It is believed to rise to a height of six miles. 

 Humboldt saw it flying over Chimborazo, at a height of at least 

 23,000 feet, when, with a barometric pressure of only thirteen 

 degrees, it seems to breathe as freely as at the level of the sea. 

 No bird fascinated Darwin so much during his visit to South 

 America as the condor. He watched one for half-an-hour 

 without taking off his eyes, and never during that or any other 

 time, while these birds were circling overhead, could he detect 

 the slightest movement in the wings. " It is truly wonderful 

 and beautiful," he adds, " to see so great a bird hour after hour, 

 without any apparent exertion, wheeling and gliding over 

 mountain and river." 



