The California Condor 



neither accident nor foe; but with wings set 

 rigidly, so far as support is concerned, he 

 quarters back and forth across the face of the 

 cliff with never a flicker of propulsive effort, 

 or else rises in great circles to whatever realm 

 he pleases of upper air. If the hunting ground 

 be a distant one, the Condor will rise to a con- 

 siderable height, — say 2000 or 3000 feet above 

 the mountain top; and then, with set wings, 

 glide directly forward down a slope with an 

 incredibly low gradient, depending, of course, 

 upon the direction and velocity of the wind, 

 and so swiftly that he will pass out of range of 

 a good field telescope within ten minutes. 



There is no more majestic spectacle in the 

 bird world than that afforded by this Condor 

 glide. It is as rigid, as inexorable, as funda- 

 mental as the law of gravitation itself. Once, 

 and only once in a residence of twelve years , 

 have we seen a Condor at Los Colibris. It was 

 flying due south, and since it was at an eleva- 

 tion of two or three thousand feet, it should 

 have made Santa Cruz Island if the wind held, 

 without shifting a feather. Such marvelous 

 specialization, however, carries with it certain 

 penalties. Just because the sails of this bird 

 are so accurately trimmed for the utilization of 

 light breezes, the craft itself is unable to make 

 headway against a strong wind. Not even by 

 flapping can the Condor negotiate a breeze 

 above a certain intensity. What the bird does 

 in such an emergency is best told by Brown, who was once present on a 

 quite critical occasion. Telescope in hand, the bird-watcher was resting 

 upon a certain low crest about a mile northeast of the Condor cliffs, which 

 here furnish a portion of the main crest of the San Juan range. Presently 

 he descried four Condors approaching from the far northeast, but before 

 they came up a smart breeze sprang up from the southwest, and presently 

 it whistled over the peaks with increasing fury. The birds were baffled 

 on the very last mile of their approach. They tacked back and forth, 

 down wind, or struggled valiantly in the teeth of the gale, only to be 

 swept away again and again. The cold sea breeze had it in for them, and 

 though it was only mid-afternoon, it began to look to the observer like a 



Taken in Los Angeles County 

 Phcto by W. L. Finley and H. T. Bohlman 



SECURING A FOOTING 



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