THE VOYAGE OF THE BEAGLE 127 



in a flock utter a noise, that singularly resembles the cry of 

 a pack of small dogs in full chase: waking in the night, I 

 have more than once been for a moment startled at the dis- 

 tant sound. The teru-tero (Vanellus cayanus) is another 

 bird, which often disturbs the stillness of the night. In ap- 

 pearance and habits it resembles in many respects our pee- 

 wits; its wings, however, are armed with sharp spurs, like 

 those on the legs of the common cock. As our peewit takes 

 its name from the sound of its voice, so does the teru-tero. 

 While riding over the grassy plains, one is constantly pur- 

 sued by these birds, which appear to hate mankind, and I 

 am sure deserve to be hated for their never-ceasing, unvaried, 

 harsh screams. To the sportsman they are most annoying, 

 by telling every other bird and animal of his approach: to 

 the traveller in the country, they may possibly, as Molina 

 says, do good, by warning him of the midnight robber. Dur- 

 ing the breeding season, they attempt, like our peewits, by 

 feigning to be wounded, to draw away from their nests dogs 

 and other enemies. The eggs of this bird are esteemed a 

 great delicacy. 



September i6th. To the seventh posta at the foot of the 

 Sierra Tapalguen. The country was quite level, with a 

 coarse herbage and a soft peaty soil. The hovel was here 

 remarkably neat, the posts and rafters being made of about 

 a dozen dry thistle-stalks bound together with thongs of 

 hide; and by the support of these Ionic-like columns, the 

 roof and sides were thatched with reeds. We were here told 

 a fact, which I would not have credited, if I had not had 

 partly ocular proof of it; namely, that, during the previous 

 night hail as large as small apples, and extremely hard, had 

 fallen with such violence, as to kill the greater number of the 

 wild animals. One of the men had already found thirteen 

 deer (Cervus campestris) lying dead, and I saw their fresh 

 hides; another of the party, a few minutes after my arrival, 

 brought in seven more. Now I well know, that one man 

 without dogs could hardly have killed seven deer in a week. 

 The men believed they had seen about fifteen ostriches (part 

 of one of which we had for dinner) ; and they said that 

 several were running about evidently blind in one eye. 

 Numbers of smaller birds, as ducks, hawks, and partridges, 



