Dec. i, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
A California Vulture in New York. 
Among the papers read before the meeting of 
the American Ornithologists’ Union held last 
week in Washington was one of peculiar interest 
by Mr. W. L. Finley, whose ornithological and 
photographic work is so well known. It gave 
his account of the hatching, early life capture 
and rearing of the great California vulture 
“General,” which is now on exhibition in the 
New York Zoological Society’s Park in the 
Bronx. 
The California vulture has been regarded as 
almost extinct, and it may be doubted whether 
any of its kind have ever been in captivity ex¬ 
cept this one and those now in the Government 
Zoological Park in Washington. Although the 
species is not extinct, it has become extremely 
rare. 
After long watching of a pair of California 
vultures Mr. Finley in March last discovered 
their nest. It contained a single egg and the bird 
was not disturbed. For twelve days he and his 
comrade watched the nest and at last the egg 
hatched. 
• Mr. Finley’s account summarized is as follows: 
“A ridge, just wide enough for a path, dropped 
steep into the gorge on both sides. . For two 
miles we wound around a shaky trail, tracing 
the top rim of the basin. A great slab of gray 
stone barred the doorway of the condor’s home, 
and protected it from storms. Up a steep, nar¬ 
row pocket we scrambled, clinging to the scrubby 
bushes and the roots, washed bare by rain, until 
we could peer through a crack in the rocks 
through which we could see. 
“The nest was not disturbed, but we watched it, 
Eight trips were made to it between March 10 
and July 5. The observations made during this 
time yielded much information of great scientific 
value.” 
It was in the beginning of July, when the young 
condor was 110 days old, that Mr. Finley took 
the bird from its nest and carried it with him to 
his home in Portland. It weighed then 15^2 
pounds. In August, the condor was taken to a 
summer camp up the Willamette River, and 
placed in an inclosure in the forest. For two 
months the bird was under the closest observa¬ 
tion from day to day and was treated to a diet 
of a pound of raw meat twice a day and plenty 
of fresh water. Especial attention was given to 
the bird's feeding in order to determine whether 
the natural propensity to live on carrion would 
manifest itself. It was found ultimately that it 
ate the fresh raw meat by choice and would never 
touch anything else unless driven to do so by 
the absence of any other food. 
When “General” was 150 days old he was well 
fledged, except that his breast was still covered 
with gray down. His wing feathers were strong, 
but they were not yet able to support his heavy 
body. If we did not let him out of his cage a 
part of each day, he became very restless. When 
the gate was opened he would stop a moment or 
two, look about and stalk slowly out. He did 
nothing without deliberation. Then, with sev¬ 
eral hops he would go half way across the yard 
clapping his big wings, and going through a 
regular dance, jumping up in the air several times 
in succession. On his removal from his wild 
native haunt he hid lost his wildness and had 
now become gentle and fond of those who cared 
for him. He loved to be petted and fondled, 
would nibble at my hand, run his nose up my 
sleeve, and bite the buttons on my coat. Every 
move he made was with care, as if afraid of 
being too rough. If scared or struck at he would 
strike back, but there was never the least indi¬ 
cation of savageness when well treated. 
One would think there could be little attach¬ 
ment for a vulture, but there is nothing treacher¬ 
ous or savage in the condor nature. Contrary 
to expectation, he was cleanly in his habits. Be¬ 
coming accustomed to fresh meat, he would take 
nothing else, and if it was the least bit dirty 
he would, refuse it; while game, such as squirrel 
and rabbit, he would not touch if he could get 
fresh beef. When mixed with squirrel meat, the 
beef would be eaten and the other left. He 
would gnaw a good bone with as much eager¬ 
ness as a dog until there was not a bit of meat 
left on it. 
The young bird was shy with strangers, but 
playful about camp. After having his breakfast, 
would jump down from his perch and toy with a 
stick in true canine fashion, shaking it in his 
bill, and then dropping it only to jump upon it 
with both feet and toss it up again. He was 
extremely fond of pulling on a rope, and would 
strain at the guy lines of the canvas tents in 
a way that seemed to threaten their demolition. 
A rope dragged along the ground he would 
watch and follow like a kitten after a string. 
He learned to follow his owner about and to 
come when called. If a ladder was stood up 
against a tree, he would hop up, rung by rung, 
to the top, and then fly off, only to repeat the 
experiment again and again. He liked to be 
petted and amused, and showed great interest in 
any sign of activity about the camp. 
He was fond of bathing. He would go down 
to the creek near the camp and patter along in 
the water for an hour at a time. He would 
get under a water spout and wallow in the pool. 
When thoroughly soaked, he would step out into 
the sun for a moment and then suddenly go back 
again. He would keep this up until almost ex¬ 
hausted by the exercise, and would then want 
to take a sun bath and sprawl in the sand. 
When the care of the young condor was re¬ 
linquished to Director Hornaday in New York 
the bird weighed 20pounds, was 46 inches in 
length, and had a wing-spread of 8 feet. The fact 
that the bird’s history has been followed from 
the egg stage to the present time has made the 
present instance unique in the records of wild 
birds in this country. There are only forty-one 
condor eggs in the museums of the whole world, 
and as the species is now so nearly extinct it 
is not likely that this number will ever be largely 
increased. None other of the raptorial birds has 
a range so restricted, and its range at the present 
time, so far as scientific men know, is from Mon¬ 
terey county, California, southward into Lower 
California. 
British Birds in New Zealand. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
A communication to the Field (London) re¬ 
garding the importation of British birds into 
New Zealand makes interesting reading. Fol¬ 
lowing are some of the more important facts 
noted: 
The house sparrow has not a single friend, not 
any one to say a good word for it. Its name 
is anathema. The chaff-finch and green linnet 
are accused of eating young vegetables and 
fruit, and the skylark is said to be destructive 
to young crops. All are denominated a 
“nuisance” by the farmers. It is to be feared 
the latter have not much taste for music. 
The starling is highly spoken of—“the only 
truly insectivorous bird that has been intro¬ 
duced,” says one authority. Yet we read that 
in Australia it does such damage to fruit that 
an order has been issued for its systematic de¬ 
struction. How is this? 
The pheasant throve wonderfully at first, 
then received a check and then began rapidly 
to decline. Several causes are given for this, 
of which doubtless these two were the most 
potent: poisoned wheat and the introduction of 
stoats and weasels, both being intended to con¬ 
tend against the rabbit plague. 
The valley quail of California has been more 
successful that the pheasant. But the farmers, 
at least, are not rejoicing. One. they say, is as 
bad as the other. It will be observed, by the 
way, how like one farmer is to another. 
The rook (which is first cousin to our crow) 
doesn’t propagate rapidly despite the _ fact— 
wonderful to state—that it is popular with the 
farmer. Why is it popular? We are not told. 
Certes it must have reformed since it left its 
native habitat. 
Other species are referred to, but the above 
embrace the most representative of the importa¬ 
tions. A useful lesson, if indeed it is needed, 
may be derived from all this by America. 
Nature is very jealous of her balance, and any 
efforts of man to interfere with or improve upon 
it are apt to be sternly resented. 
Frank Moonan. 
86 l 
A Rare New Hampshire Fox. 
Dunbarton, N. H., Nov. 18 .—Editor Forest 
and Stream: A man living some seven miles 
from my house, has been trapping foxes. I do 
not understand how he gets so many foxes. He 
uses but three traps; sets them very near his 
house on dr3' land and uses no scent. In the 
last two weeks he has caught fourteen foxes. 
Yesterday morning he ’phoned me saying. “What 
is a black fox worth? I caught one this morn¬ 
ing.” My first impression was that he had 
caught what is called a mongrel. Such a fox is 
killed once in a while. I replied that I would 
like to see his black fox and possibly I could 
estimate what it was worth. A few hours later 
this man drove into my yard with the fox (un¬ 
skinned). The moment I saw the fox I said: 
“I can’t say what it is. I am quite sure that it 
is neither a mongrel, silver gray nor cross.” 
I will describe this fox as well as I can and 
perhaps some of the fox hunting fraternity can 
relegate it where it belongs. A dog fox in good 
condition, as I weighed it on a set of tested 
scales it weighed ny 2 pounds. Markings: Face 
and top of head to ears, gray; from back to ears 
to about one-third of distance to root of tail a 
very decided black. Where black ended a rather 
dull red to' within a few inches of root of tail. 
Brush very black. A very few white hairs at 
extreme tip. Breast, belly, sides, legs, very black. 
I know two men in Concord who buy raw furs. 
I 'phoned them about this fox and in the after¬ 
noon they came to my house and I ran them to 
the trapper’s house in one of my motor cars. On 
our way I offered to wager them that they would 
see a fox which would stick them as to its mar¬ 
ket value. The result was, we all saw the dark 
colored fox. I had not the least idea as to its 
value. The buyers were in the same fix and so 
was the owner. My companions bought of the 
trapper thirteen red foxes at a fair price. The 
dark one is still with the trapper. 
I have no interest whatever in the price this 
dark fox brings. Its owner is a New Hamp¬ 
shire farmer and therefore needs every dollar he 
can get. I will make this offer. I think I can 
arrange with the owner of the dark fox so that 
he will send the pelt to any reliable party. They 
to say what they will give, and if price is not 
accepted to return pelt to owner, they paying 
all express charges. When I first saw this partly 
black fox in my dooryard yesterday. I said I 
had never seen such a fox before. Thinking it 
over last night I now think that I once saw 
pretty near its twin brother, quite a number of 
years since I was in New York. It was early in 
the spring when Capt. A. H. Bogardus had re¬ 
turned from a victorious trip against the pigeon 
shooters of England. I met the captain at his 
hotel, and at his request went with him to Pater¬ 
son, N. J., to see him give an exhibition. I 
heard previously that there was a fox hunting 
club in Paterson; also that there was a black 
fox which they wanted. When Bogardus and I 
reached the Mansion Hotel at Paterson we saw 
the celebrated black fox in a glass case in the 
barroom. As I recall what I saw at Paterson 
I would say that the fox I saw yesterday comes 
pretty near to being an exact duplicate. 
Mr. A. B. F. Kinney, of Worcester. Mass., 
has a large collection of pelts. Should he be 
interested in this New Hampshire fox I would 
be glad to hear from him. 
Occasionally I meet some of my old time shoot¬ 
ing friends. They are kind enough to say: “We 
always enjoyed reading your letters in Forest 
and Stream. We have not seen any for some 
time.” All I can say is, having nothing to say, 
I kept still. As a sportsman T have had my day. 
Since I became the owner of a couple of motor 
cars most of my spare time is spent in keeping 
the plaguy things in running shape. I see oc¬ 
casional deer quite near my house, also birds and 
foxes. I have lost to a great extent my desire 
to kill. C. M. Stark. 
BREAKFAST IN CAMP 
is nothing without coffee, and coffee is nothing without 
Cream. Ordinarily cream is out of the question nine 
times out of ten, but Borden’s Peerless Evaporated Cream 
takes its place perfectly and keeps indefinitely until 
opened. Tt is unsweetened and has the natural cream 
flavor and color.— Adv. 
