io6 WILD WINGS 



bands of cattle. Having done this, we were on the edge of 

 the swampy forest, with its giant cypresses, which, rising 

 boldly from the prairie level, gave the effect of a long range 

 of hills, stretching away, as we were told, some forty miles. 

 The men had described the location of the roost, but we were 

 unable to reach it. It was several miles farther, and we had 

 all we could do in a day to investigate the Wood and White 

 Ibises, Barred Owls, Florida Black Ducks, and other interest- 

 ing birds. 



When we emerged, at length, and started up the band of 

 gluttonous buzzards, we watched to see whether they would 

 not fly toward their rookery. All they did was to extend 

 their great ragged pinions, and, after the first few flaps, let 

 the ascending current of heated air do the rest. Lazily they 

 wheeled high overhead on motionless wings, waiting for us 

 to withdraw. No doubt they finally went back, but only in 

 their own good time, when the shadows of the cypresses had 

 grown long and sombre. 



It was quite near this spot that we came upon the nest of 

 a Wild Turkey, the only one I had ever seen. Under a low 

 scrub palmetto, on the edge of the prairie near the forest, the 

 bird had scratched out a slight hollow, lined it with grass, and 

 deposited a dozen large speckled eggs. These had hatched, 

 and the shells, neatly cracked in halves, some of the pieces 

 telescoped, were lying there. Eggs are just the sort of special 

 treat that buzzards enjoy. Very likely Turkey Buzzard and 

 turkey had matched wits and patience, but the owner of the 

 nest had won, so the scavengers were forced to attend more 

 strictly to business and search out death among the cattle 

 herds or the bands of razor-backed hogs hateful, grizzled 

 monsters that were ever ready for intrusion. 



If the choice must be between buzzards and hogs as scav- 

 engers, give me the buzzard. He has at least a tithe of 



