The Sand-bill Crane 361 



wiff-wiff of broad feathery fans. When he does 

 move, it is with the smooth, rubbery celerity of a 

 serpent working overtime, and he finds himself 

 almost mixed up with a terrified, flapping host, 

 out of which he ought to get enough to ease the 

 strain for the time being. 



Possibly a bird may be winged, and, if so, give 

 it another charge as it goes trotting away. A 

 winged crane can run at a very fair rate, and 

 any attempt at chasing it may mean the scaring 

 off of other approaching flocks ; besides, it is only 

 humane and sportsmanlike to speedily end the 

 suffering of a maimed victim. Hence, wisdom 

 and humanity both plead for a prompt settlement 

 of the matter, and their plea is backed by another 

 excellent reason. This one projects from the 

 bird's face for several inches, and each inch feels 

 like a foot when the dagger-like affair happens 

 to encounter an outstretched hand. On account 

 of his armament, I never voluntarily stoop over 

 a wounded crane, for one of his unerring jabs 

 may mean the loss of an eye, or, if the man be 

 lucky, merely a nasty cut in the face. All the 

 wounded cranes I have seen were game to the 

 last, and apparently all ready for a trifle of rapier- 

 play with any antagonist. Upon one occasion, 

 an enthusiastic spaniel, with more zeal than judg- 

 ment, twisted himself free of his collar and broke 

 away to show what he could do in the way of 



