16 THE. AUD U BOING BR Uj ae 
an nnn ecru 
But, above all these, when one thinks of a scavenger the bird that comes 
to the mind first and foremost is the vulture. As a group they are dis- 
tinetly carrion-eating birds. They seldom attack a living animal, but may 
put to death the wounded or sick. They gorge themselves when prey is 
abundant till their crops form a projection, and then sit sleepy and half 
torpid to digest their food. The bareness of their heads and necks adapts 
them for feeding on putrid flesh by which feathers would be defiled. They 
are very careful to wash and cleanse their plumage. The question of 
whether the vulture detects its food by the sense of sight or of smell has 
been strongly debated in recent years without a definite answer, but Long- 
fellow in “Hiawatha” has quite clearly recognized their power of vision: 
“Never stoops the soaring vulture 
On his quarry in the desert, 
On the sick or wounded bison, 
But another vulture, watching 
From his high aerial look-out, 
Sees the downward plunge and follows; 
And a third pursues the second, 
Coming from the invisible ether, 
First a speck, and then a vulture, 
Till the air is dark with pinions.” 
In the southern states and throughout the tropics the black vulture is 
especially common and is protected as an indispensible scavenger, and often 
becomes almost half domesticated. The Parsees and Zoroastrians of India 
deem them “heaven-sent birds” and expose the bodies of their dead on the 
famous Towers of Silence to be devoured by the vultures. These structures 
are open to the sky, and Zoroastrians maintain that they are a solution of 
the sanitary question. 
Thus do these creatures of sea, land and air, and many others not named 
but equally efficient, serve to protect us from unpleasant sights and odors, 
and, what is more important, the dangers of disease and possible epidemics 
resulting from accumulations of putrescent matter. Should we look upon 
them with distaste when they are doing only what Nature and evolution 
through the centuries has best fitted them to do, just because that is some- 
thing which we would not wish to do ourselves? While they may not seem 
to us agreeable, let us have some tolerance and a little respect for Nature’s 
scavengers. 
ft ft ft 
THE ROBIN is a wide, free feeder, boring in the turf for grubs and worms in 
summer, and taking up with cedar berries and hardhack drupes in winter. 
If a crop of locusts come in cherry time, he will spare your cherries. If a 
drouth drives the angleworms deep into the ground in August, look out for 
your grapes. The robin is wonderfully adaptive. If he does not find a tree 
to his liking, he will nest on the wall, or under your porch, or even on the 
ground. His colors are not brilliant, but the secret of his success lies in 
his courage, his force of character, so to speak, and his adaptability—John 
Burroughs. 
