FLOCK OF TURKEYS. 43 



of my trusty fowling-piece. If I wished to test my luck and 

 skill upon them, I must wander either into the states of Ohio, 

 Kentucky, Illinois, Indiana all situated in the centre of 

 the American territory, along the banks of the Missouri 

 and the Mississippi, the two mightiest rivers of the 

 American continent or into Georgia and the two Caro- 

 linas, among the Alleghany Mountains, where, however, 

 these birds are approached with difficulty, for they live on 

 the wildest heights, in the depths of unfathomable ravines, 

 and in the recesses of woods untrodden by the foot of 

 man. 



One morning, during my sojourn with the Redskins, in- 

 formation was brought to M. Simonton, a hunting-com- 

 panion of mine, that numerous turkeys had been sighted 

 by an Indian on the edge of a small wood of cotton-trees ; 

 this wood lining the green savannah in whose centre we 

 had pitched our tents. 



For my friend and I to start in company with the guide 

 who had brought us the welcome intelligence, was but a 

 moment's work. The Redskin advised us to preserve the 

 completest silence. He himself set us an example of pre- 

 caution, for he marched with so much lightness over 

 ground covered with leaves and heather, that we were 

 tempted to believe he had wings to his feet. 



After making numerous circuits in the natural paths of 

 the cotton-tree grove, we arrived on the border of a field 

 clothed thickly and deeply with an herb called buffalo- 

 grass. It grew to a height of about twelve inches, and 

 amongst it clucked, and gobbled, and strutted a score of 

 magnificent turkeys. The intense delight I felt in con- 

 templating, from my covert behind a screen of foliage, 



