and unfit for the hunt ; and the buzzard, instead 

 of struggling for his quarry, is driven to eat a 

 dinner that every other predatory bird would 

 refuse. 



Another proof of his fall is that at this late day 

 he has a decided preference for fresh food. This 

 was doubtless the unspoiled taste of his ancestors, 

 given with the beak and talons. He is a glutton 

 and a coward, else he would be an eagle still. 



We associate the turkey-buzzard with carrion, 

 and naturally attribute his marvelous power of 

 finding food to his sense of smell. Let a dead 

 animal be dragged into the field, and in less than 

 an hour there will be scores of these somber crea- 

 tures gathered about it, when, in all the reach of 

 the horizon for perhaps a week past, not more 

 than one or two have been seen at any one time. 

 Did they detect an odor miles away and follow 

 the scent hither? Possibly. But yonder you 

 spy a buzzard sailing so far up that he appears 

 no larger than a swallow. He is descending. 

 Watch where he settles. Lo ! he is eating the 

 garter-snake that you killed in the path a few 

 minutes ago. How did the bird from that alti- 

 tude discover so tiny a thing? He could not 

 [336] 



