210 DAN BEARD'S ANIMAL BOOK 



hand and slowly stretching out its neck it grasped 

 my wrist with its beak and placing one toot upon 

 my hand commenced to pull as if to tear a piece 

 of flesh from my arm. It was so very deliberate 

 about this operation that I did not realize its ob- 

 ject until the pain in my wrist and the blood from 

 the wound left no reason for doubt. Doubling 

 up the fist of the other hand I struck the buzzard 

 and knocked him from the porch. 



When I lived in Kentucky everybody kept 

 chickens and everybody who kept chickens had one 

 or more 



GAME ROOSTERS. 



Our old game cock had been standing along- 

 side of the veranda for some time watching me 

 with the liveliest of interest, when to his delight the 

 blow from my fist sent the big ungainly bird plump 

 down in front of him. 



A TURKEY BUZZARD IN THE HANDS OF A GAME 



COCK 



is about the most helpless creature I ever saw. This 

 one was knocked by a series of blows all over the 

 lawn and at last ignominiously rolled down a 

 series of terraces to a corner of the fence, where it 

 lay upon its back gasping and helpless. There is 

 a little half-moon scar upon my wrist today which 

 serves me as a memorandum of my adventure with 

 the turkey buzzard which the boys wanted to sell 

 me as an eagle at my old Kentucky home. 



