192 ‘ 
THE WHOOPING CRANE. 
ner of Wild Turkeys. In this situation they are sometimes shot by moon- 
light. Those which resort to plantations, situated in the vicinity of large 
marshes, covered with tall grasses, cat’s tails, and other plants, spend the 
night on some hillock, standing on one leg, the other being drawn under the 
body, whilst the head is thrust beneath the broad feathers of the shoulder. 
In returning towards the feeding grounds, they all emit their usual note, but 
in a very low undertone, leaving their roost at an earlier or later hour, ac- 
cording to the state of the weather. When it is cold and clear, they start 
very early ; but when warm and rainy, not until late in the morning. Their 
motions toward night are determined by the same circumstances. They rise 
easily from the ground after running a few steps, fly low for thirty or forty 
yards, then rise in circles, crossing each other in their windings, like Vul- 
tures, Ibises, and some other birds. If startled or shot at, they utter loud 
and piercing cries. These cries, which I cannot compare to the sounds of 
any instrument known to me, I have heard at the distance of three miles, 
at the approach of spring, when the -males were paying their addresses to 
the females, or fighting among themselves. They may be in some degree 
represented by the syllables kewrr, /cewrr, kewrooh ; and strange and 
uncouth as they are, they have always sounded delightful in my ear. 
In December 1833, I sent my son to Spring Island, on the coast of Geor- 
gia, to which these birds are in the habit of resorting every winter. Mr. 
Hammond, the proprietor of this island, treated him with all the hospitality 
for which the southern planters are celebrated. The Cranes, which were 
plentiful, resorted to the sweet potato fields, digging up their produce as ex- 
pertly as a troop of negroes. They walked carefully over the little heaps, 
probed them in various parts in the manner of Woodcocks or Snipe, and 
whenever they hit upon a potato, removed the soil, took out the root," and 
devoured it in rather small pieces. In this manner they would search over 
the whole field, which was two miles in length, and rather more than a quar- 
ter of a mile in breadth, gleaning all the potatoes that had escaped the gather- 
ers. They were so shy, however, that notwithstanding all the endeavours 
of my son, who is a good- hand at getting in upon game, as well as a good 
shot, he only killed a young one, which was evidently of that year’s brood, 
it being yet almost reddish-brown, the long feathers of the rump just begin- 
ning to show, and the head yet covered with hair-like feathers to the mandi- 
ble, and merely showing between them the wrinkled skin so conspicuous in 
the old birds. The specimen procured on Spring Island was carefully ex- 
amined and described, and the skin is now in the British Museum in Lon- 
don. Its flesh was tender and juicy, of a colour resembling that of young 
venison, and afforded excellent eating. This I have always found to be the 
case with young birds of this species, so long as they are in their brown 
