THE WHOOPING CRANE. 193 



livery, and even when they have begun to be patched with white; but in old 

 birds the flesh becomes very dark, tough and unfit for the table, although the 

 Seminole Indians shoot them on all occasions for food. 



In captivity the Whooping Crane becomes extremely gentle, and feeds 

 freely on grain and other vegetable substances. A Mr. Magwood, residing 

 near Charleston, in South Carolina, kept one for some time, feeding it on 

 maize. It accidentally wounded one of its feet on the shell of an oyster, 

 and, although the greatest care was taken of it, died after lingering some 

 weeks. Having myself kept one alive, I will give you an account of its 

 habits. 



It was nearly full-grown when I obtained it, and its plumage was chang- 

 ing from greyish-brown to white. I received it as a present from Captain 

 Clack of the United States Navy, commander of the Erie sloop of war. It 

 had been wounded in the wing, on the coast of Florida, but the fractured 

 limb had been amputated and soon healed. During a voyage of three months, 

 it became very gentle, and was a great favourite with the sailors. I placed 

 it in a yard, in company with a beautiful Snow Goose. This was at Boston. 

 It was so gentle as to suffer me to caress it with the hand, and was extreme- 

 ly fond of searching for worms and grubs about the wood pile, probing every 

 hole it saw with as much care and dexterity as an Ivory-billed Woodpecker. 

 It also watched with all the patience of a cat the motions of some mice which 

 had burrows near the same spot, killed them with a single blow, and swal- 

 lowed them entire, one after another, until they were extirpated. I fed it 

 on corn and garbage from the kitchen, to which were added bits of bread and 

 cheese, as well as some apples. It would pick up the straws intended to 

 keep its feet from being soiled, and arrange them round its body, as if intent 

 on forming a nest. For hours at a time, it would stand resting on one foot 

 in a very graceful posture; but what appeared to me very curious was, that 

 it had a favourite leg for this purpose; and in fact none of my family ever 

 found it standing on the other, although it is probable that this happened in 

 consequence of the mutilation of the wing, the leg employed being that of 

 the injured side. The stump of its amputated wing appeared to be a con- 

 stant source of trouble, particularly at the approach of the winter: it would 

 dress the feathers about it, and cover it with so much care, that I really felt 

 for the poor fellow. W T hen the weather became intensely cold, it regularly 

 retired at the approach of night under a covered passage, where it spent the 

 hours of darkness; but it always repaired to this place with marked reluc- 

 tance, and never until all was quiet and nearly dark, and it came out, even 

 when the snow lay deep on the ground, at the first appearance of day. Now 

 and then it would take a run, extend its only wing, and, uttering a loud cry, 

 leap several times in the air, as if anxious to return to its haunts. At other 



