368 
SAVAGE SUDAN 
out drab of their companions, and whose snow-white 
heads displayed black blotches on the auriculars. These 
were quite unknown to us—and remain so. 
Next appeared other huge vultures, also new. Hardly 
such giants as the Nubians, these last-comers were of 
a bright tawny colour and, even as they flew, one saw 
in the fierce sunlight that each feather was boldly shaded 
—that is, streaked darker down its centre. By the 
authorities on Ethiopian ornithology I understand these 
are regarded as Griffon vultures; but knowing the 
Griffon intimately in Spain, I feel confident that no 
vultures such as these ever soar in Iberian firmament. 
From beneath our rock-roof we enjoyed for an hour 
an entrancing scene in African bird-life. Below in the 
stony glen lay the dead gazelle, its white belly glistening 
in the sunlight, while around, grave ravens and neophrons 
stood like sextons. Close overhead soared and wheeled 
the giant vultures just described—their naked necks 
full-stretched earthwards and huge hanging talons 
balancing flight as, undecided, they swept to and fro 
in endless aerial evolutions, wondrous to witness. The 
human eye, by virtue of its arresting retina, is enabled 
to follow the whole process of flight. But by no 
mechanical means can such pictures be portrayed— 
whether by pencil or camera. The mazy confusion of 
immense winnowing wings—quills each widely separated 
and uptilted—often strangely foreshortened, in ceaselessly 
changing perspective and intricacy of angles •— these 
things defy all attempt to depict. The pencil is useless, 
but the camera is still worse; its instantaneous action 
produces nothing but an amorphous smudge, inconductive 
of any intelligible idea or impression. Such scenes, in 
short, fall within that category of Nature’s pictures that 
can never be fully appreciated save only through the eye 
itself. 
Some suspicion pervaded their minds, for none of the 
bigger vultures dared to dine, and presently all alighted 
