358 GKALLiE. — RALLID^. 



on each side of the swiftly-flowing Paradise River. 

 Where the bridle-path called the Short Cut crosses 

 the stream, there grow many bushes of Black- 

 Withe, about as large as an ordinary apple-tree ; 

 many of these are clothed with a dense and matted 

 drapery of convolvolus so thick as to hide the 

 bush completely. On the very summit of these 

 bushes, the Clucking-hens might often be seen at 

 early day, the tangled creepers affording a sup- 

 port for their broad feet, where they stood and 

 turned without sinking and without embarrassment. 

 They stood boldly erect, as if watching, their dark 

 figures relieved against the sky, in an attitude 

 exactly like that of an Ibis, though they flirted 

 the tail in the manner of a Rail. At brief in- 

 tervals they uttered a short sharp sound, and some- 

 times the loud harsh scream, kreaow. On being 

 alarmed, they flew heavily and slowly, with the 

 long legs hanging down, and the neck stretched 

 forward, having a very awkward appearance in the 

 air. 



About June, they had again retired to the loftier 

 elevations: at the middle of that month, I used 

 to hear their loud cries at an early hour, on the 

 mountains of Grand Vale and Hampstead, above Con- 

 tent. There was a large pond just within the woods, 

 to which they resorted; for the drought still pre- 

 vailed. My young friend, who had often seen them 

 there, informed me that they scratch and pick like a 

 fowl. 



The head and beak of the Clucking-hen bears 

 an obvious resemblance to those of the following 



