248 THE WILD TDEXEY. 



In the spring, after I landed at Galveston, I myself 

 paid a visit to a celebrated turkey-hunter ; and under 

 his tuition I soon learned more of the habits of the 

 bird, finding that it was more wary and more difficult 

 to take than I had any idea of when I first tried my 

 luck in the woods of Cedar Bayon. 



' You will find,' said the hunter, while we were pro- 

 jecting a hunt, 'that the turkey is of all birds the most 

 crafty game it will ever be jonv fortune to hunt. It is 

 quite as suspicious as a thief, when he knows that the 

 detective is on his track ; the rustling of a dead leaf is 

 sufficient to make it take wing, and so spoil your day's 

 sport. It will start with fright at its own shadow, and 

 run far away from the echoes of its own cry. Its ears 

 are so sharp that I have frequently ^ost a whole 

 morning's patient stalking when some nimble squirrel 

 has leaped from one branch to another, and broken a 

 dead twig in its haste. And then, too, it has the 

 keenest sight in the world ; an eagle is near-sighted 

 compared with the turkey, whose vision can instantly 

 detect any unwonted movement in the bushes, or the 

 flight of a bird of prey as it soars far beyond reach of 

 our eyes. You may approach a bear vvithout the 

 animal becoming aware of your presence, while a deer 

 or hare will generally pause a moment to gaze before 

 it darts awa}'^; but with the turkey it is different. To 

 see an enemy is to fly instantly far beyond the reach 

 of danger ; and they have a keen instinct which teaches 



