THE GREAT BUSTARD. 
763 
above the plain, only rising to a considerable elevation 
when it approaches somewhat too near to a dangerous 
object. 
The great intelligence of the Bustard is* such as often 
to place that of man quite in the shade. All the cunning 
manoeuvres, caution, care and patience of the sportsman, 
are generally frustrated by the acuteness and wariness of 
the bird, who weighs and estimates everything that it 
sees and hears, at its true value. Nothing is too insigni¬ 
ficant for its notice, nothing too small; it trusts no 
creature which has ever approached it with hostile 
intentions, or which could possibly do so. The Bustard 
calculates, weighs, estimates,—in short, reflects: expe¬ 
rience once gained is never forgotten; a danger over¬ 
come only serves to sharpen its sagacity. This bird 
rarely allows itself to be deceived, or to be led into 
committing a mistake. A sportsman disguised in female 
attire is looked upon with as much suspicion as a 
labourer; the horseman, as the pedestrian. Peasants, 
shepherds, and women carrying loads on their shoulders, 
are the only human beings which it does not distrust. It 
would seem as though the Bustard could distinguish 
between a gun and a stick, and tell the range of a rifle. 
Every change in the aspect of any well-known object 
strikes the bird, and makes it suspicious in the highest 
degree : a freshly-turned manure heap, a hole newly dug, 
will immediately cause it to abandon a locality that it has 
frequented for weeks together. The senses of hearing and 
smell seem less acute in this bird than that of sight, for 
one may sit in a hole covered with earth, in the midst of 
a flock of Bustards, and smoke tobacco, even, without 
being winded by them, or the hiding-place being 
discovered. 
5 H 
