THE TURKEY BUZZARD. 
171 
into the fields and woods, far from the noise of city 
life, and where no sound is heard but the ceaseless 
voice of Nature. Here we shall see the birds in all 
their native beauty, not as we see the stuffed mum- 
mies in our cabinets, but as free tenants of the air, 
enjoying all the life and liberty in which they were 
created. It is a warm, bright morning of Summer; 
the sultry air teems with the fragrant odors of the 
hay-fields ; the sweet warblers which early sang their 
notes from the neighboring grove have retired to the 
deep and cooling shelter of the forest. We seek the 
shade of some wide-spreading oak, where we may sit 
down and observe what is passing around us. If we 
turn our eyes upward, we will probably see four or 
five dark-looking objects, apparently like crows, sail- 
ing in easy circles, or floating about in graceful curves, 
sometimes dashing off* with impetuous velocity, or 
mounting high in the air, until almost lost to view, 
their varied motions being performed without any 
further apparent effort of the wings than a few flaps. 
These are the Turkey Buzzards, and if one of them 
should pass before us upon the ground, we would 
scarcely suspect so awkward, unsightly, heavy and 
inanimate a looking object, could be so free and 
graceful upon the wing ; and if we should see him 
thrust his head and neck into the mangled corpse 
of some poor old horse which had just fallen a prey 
to the stroke of death, we should be still more dis- 
gusted with his unmannerly behavior. But how- 
ever justly we may censure him for his uncouth ap- 
pearance and his filthy habits, he is nevertheless one 
