120 The Wilson Bulletin. 



Lammergeier alighted on a rock near by to watch the per- 

 formance, in whose gluttony he had no need to share, and 

 when a single Black Vulture, or Monk Vulture, as we might 

 well call him, after the example of the Germans, had de- 

 scended among the group of tawny gourmands, and then, as 

 behooves a member of a clerical order, stepped aside and 

 turned his dignified back on the vulgar crowd. But for the 

 rifle in my hand I might have waited indefinitely, absorbed- 

 in this strange sight; the rifle reminded me of my purpose, 

 which was to get possession of the black gown of this same 

 monkish guest, the victim of my treachery. I was excited. 

 I. raised the rifle, looked along its shaking barrel, and low- 

 ered it, experiencing emotions which are more novel, and 

 perhaps better worth while than those of an experienced 

 hunter. After partly succeeding in quieting the absurd 

 trembling of that gun barrel, I fired. The black target rose 

 into the air; the smoke obscured it for a moment, and I 

 rushed out and fired wild shots at the retreating forms of the 

 birds till they were out of range. Then, glancing down the 

 mountain side I saw a mass of black prone on the ground. 

 It was the Monk Vulture who had flown ten yards only to 

 fall dead, with the great arteries severed at the heart. His 

 length was three feet and eight inches, and his spread of 

 wings from tip to tip nine feet and eight inches. These 

 measurements are a little more than those of the Tawny 

 Vulture, and a little less than those of the Lammergeier. 



Thus ended the morning among the vultures. I can only 

 regret that I shall never know how the feast would have 

 ended, and what part the Bearded Vulture and the Monk 

 Vulture would have played, if I had left the Winchester at 

 home. 



