22 THE CARACARA EAGLE. 



24th November of that year, in the course of an excursion near the town of 

 St. Augustine, I observed a bird flying at a great elevation, and almost over 

 my head. Convinced that it was unknown to me, and bent on obtaining it, 

 I followed it nearly a mile, when I saw it sail towards the earth, making for 

 a place where a group of Vultures were engaged in devouring a dead horse. 

 Walking up to the horse, I observed the new bird alighted on it, and helped 

 itself freely to the savoury meat beneath its feet; but it evinced a degree of 

 shyness far greater than that of its associates, the Turkey-Buzzards and 

 Carrion Crows. I moved circuitously, until I came to a deep ditch, along 

 which I crawled, and went as near to the bird as I possibly could; but find- 

 ing the distance much too great for a sure shot, I got up suddenly, when the 

 whole of the birds took to flight. The eagle, as if desirous of forming 

 acquaintance with me, took a round and passed over me. I shot, but to my 

 great mortification missed it. However it alighted a few hundred yards off, 

 in an open savanna, on which I laid myself flat on the ground, and crawled 

 towards it, pushing my gun before me, amid burs and mud-holes, until I 

 reached the distance of about seventy-five yards from it, when I stopped to 

 observe its attitudes. The bird did not notice me; he stood on a lump of 

 flesh, tearing it to pieces, in the manner of a Vulture, until he had nearly 

 swallowed the whole. Being now less occupied, he spied me, erected the 

 feathers of his neck, and, starting up, flew away, carrying the remainder of 

 his prey in his talons. I shot a second time, and probably touched him; 

 for he dropped his burden, and made off in a direct course across the St. 

 Sebastian River, with alternate sailings and flappings, somewhat in the 

 manner of a Vulture, but more gracefully. He never uttered a cry, and I 

 followed him wistfully with my eyes until he was quite out of sight. 



The following day the bird returned, and was again among the Vultures, 

 but at some distance from the carcass, the birds having been kept off by the 

 dogs. I approached by the ditch, saw it very well, and watched its move- 

 ments, until it arose, when once more I shot, but without effect. It sailed 

 off in large circles, gliding in a very elegant manner, and now and then 

 diving downwards and rising again. 



Two days elapsed before it returned. Being apprised by a friend of this 

 desired event, instead of going after it myself, I dispatched my assistant, who 

 returned with it in little more than half an hour. I immediately began my 

 drawing of it. The weather was sultry, the thermometer being at S9°; and, 

 to my surprise, the vivid tints of the plumage were fading much faster than 

 I had ever seen them in like circumstances, insomuch that Dr. Bell of 

 Dublin, who saw it when fresh, and also when I was finishing the drawing 

 twenty-four hours after, said he could scarcely believe it to be the same 

 bird. How often have I thought of the changes which I have seen effected 



