THE SAND-HILL CRANE. 243 



their heads two feet higher. The upper part of the body is a light 

 blue or slate colour, with a line of chestnut where the primary 

 feathers of their wings show along their sides, the under parts 

 light grey, their chins white, their legs steel blue. The upper 

 part of the head is bald and the skin on it rough and red, and, like 

 a cap of Fez, it surmounts the head, reaching to the lower mandible. 

 From this red head-dress peers out a hazel eye, noticeably strong 

 and bright, with a yellow iris. The motion of the bird is vigorous. 

 If wounded it fights dangerously against dog and man, using its 

 bill as a lance, and aiming at the eye of its antagonist. The flesh 

 is dark, like venison, and in the young, delicate for food. 



The Indians have a legend, that in early days when the first 

 crane came to their land he found the eagle there before him, 

 disputing his way. There was a great fight, and the crane was 

 struck down to the ground and the eagle took his scalp. The 

 crane, however, drove his lance-like bill through both the eagle's 

 thighs. Since then, the crane has always borne his gory head, and 

 the eagle has, when walking, limped like a deformed beggar. 



Sometimes the weary traveller sees on the distant prairie knoll, 

 a fellow-traveller. "Welcome sight ! He turns his horse towards 

 him. As he nears him, two or three more appear on the knoll, 

 and the traveller finds it was the crane sentinel watching while 

 the others slept. 



In common with the grouse family, living on prairie land, the 

 crane dances for amusement. On a bright day, when a dozen are 

 loitering together, one ancient maiden will apparently lift up her 

 skirts until she shows the whole length of her spindle shanks, and 

 then hop on her toes a dozen paces, when, dropping her skirts, she 

 will assume the demure air of a Quakeress. Another will do the 

 same ; then a red-capped gallant, after a rattle of dry nuts in his 

 throat, will extend his neck, fly up in the air a few feet and come 

 down, repeating this movement until he advances thirty or forty 

 yards. And then another and another will lift up their skirts, 

 and twirl and hop and flit, without rhyme, and with what reason 

 we know not. Perhaps the stately gallants and dames who per- 

 formed their minuets a hundred years since could, if living, give 

 us a reason, for the dances are wondrously alike. 



