136 FIFTEEN DAYS ON THE DANUBE. 
Thereupon we got up, hurried down the slope, crossed the 
glade, began to ascend the opposite hill, and in about half an 
hour reached the great pear-tree, which stood on such a steep 
incline that from a hundred yards above it one could see 
straight into the nest. There,was a small open covered with 
hawthorn bushes on one side of the tree, and on the other we 
noticed, at a few paces from the nest, a glade through which 
flowed a babbling little brook. As we had neither seen nor 
heard the bird fly off, we were sure that it must be in its 
dwelling, so I looked about for a good place from which to fire 
at it with the rifle in case it rose at the first noise. 
I must have stood motionless; with my gun up, for at least 
ten minutes; for breaking sticks, shouting, hammering the 
tree with the hunting-knife, and throwing up bits of wood 
were all ineffectual—the lazy bird would not stir. 
I was shaking with excitement to such a degree that I was 
obliged to come to some decision as soon as possible; for being 
on the watch so incessantly had made me quite incapable of 
firing a straight shot; so by the forester’s advice I hastened 
up the slope to seeif I could not look into the nest from above, 
and, rightly enough, found a place from which I could plainly 
see the bald grey-blue head, large round back, and the point 
of the tail. I sat down in order to get my wind again, and 
followed all the movements of the bird with the glass. The 
vulture must have been quite gorged, for it was evidently 
indifferent to all that went on around it, and every effort that 
we made to rouse it from its lethargy had no effect. There it 
lay, with its head thrown back on its shoulders, and its beak 
held straight down and gaping. It was probably distressed 
by the burning heat of the sun, and only shook its head from 
time to time to keep off the insects which were swarming 
round the stinking nest. Relying on the steadiness of my 
hand, I resolved to risk a shot at the small mark of the vul- 
ture’s head. The rifle cracked, the mud at the edge of the 
