The California Condor 



this respect even by the more famed and more abundant South American 

 Condor (Sarcorhamphus gryphus), and powerful of beak and foot, there is 

 no record of the Condor's having offered a human being any indignity 

 unless brought to bay at close quarters. Finley and Bohlman took a 

 newly hatched chick from under its mother and restored it again without 

 even being struck at. Although the little fellow did fight savagely in his 

 earlier weeks, it was only nature's customary device for working up 

 muscle. Later, as Finley testifies, this same youngster became as gentle 

 as a kitten and although he was fond of strenuous play, a tug of war with 

 a rope being one of his favorite diversions, he was careful not to hurt the 

 fingers of his kindly captors. He nuzzled and nibbled harmlessly at the 

 outstretched hand, whereas he could strip the flesh off a beef bone and 

 leave beak marks on it. 



Brown testifies that he has seen Condors, Turkey Vultures, and 

 coyotes feeding simultaneously upon a carcass. The Condor was king of 

 the feast, but he made no attempt to drive off the lesser fry, — seemed 

 generously willing, rather, that they should share. The Vultures, in turn, 

 appear to cherish a certain esteem for their greater brethren. Time and 

 again Brown has seen the Turkey Vultures sally forth from their rookery 

 by the dozen or score to greet their homing kinsmen, circling about them, 

 and appearing to act as a sort of escort or guard of honor for returning 

 royalty. And at a time when the buzzards are wrangling and crowding 

 each other off the roost, the Condor sits by in calm dignity. He is no 

 brawler. 



To our astonishment, we learn that Condors take fastidious care of 

 their persons. They are fond of the water, and after a bath will hang out 

 their wings to dry. This operation over with, they primp and preen them- 

 selves by the hour. Of course, much of this care is that of a good mechanic, 

 who must "look after the machine." A Condor is a very special sort of 

 airplane, and whatever the fuel he burns — and it must be confessed that 

 much of it is low grade — the engine has to be kept clean. Nature supplies 

 the cylinders, the struts and guy-wires, but the Condor attends to the 

 upkeep. Every element in rudder or aileron must be kept in perfectly 

 serviceable condition. So the bird nibbles and strokes and varnishes and 

 adjusts — what wonder if he spends hours at it ! 



It is not certain that the Condor prefers its meat rare, either. Fin- 

 ley's "General" was fed on fresh beef, a pound a day, and he promptly 

 rejected anything tainted. His master couldn't put anything over on 

 him, and from a mixed lot of food which included beef and squirrel, the 

 bird selected only the former. One wonders whether the acceptance of 

 the, to us, repulsive diet of carrion was not dictated rather by the Con- 

 dor's innate gentleness of character than by indolence or "degeneracy." 



1727 



