(9/3.
Loudon's "Magazine of Natural History" volume 7.) Often when lying down to rest on the open plains, on looking upwards, I have seen carrion-hawks sailing through the air at a great height.

Where the country is level I do not believe a space of the heavens, of more than fifteen degrees above the horizon, is commonly viewed with any attention by a person either walking or on horseback.

If such be the case, and the vulture is on the wing at a height of between three and four thousand feet, before it could come within the range of vision, its distance in a straight line from the beholder's eye would be rather more than two British miles.

Might it not thus readily be overlooked?
When an animal is killed by the sportsman in a lonely valley, may he not all the while be watched from above by the sharp-sighted bird?
And will not the manner of its descent proclaim throughout the district to the whole family of carrion-feeders, that their prey is at hand?
When the condors are wheeling in a flock round an round any spot, their flight is beautiful.

Except when rising from the ground, I do not recollect ever having seen one of these birds flap its wings.
Near Lima, I watched several for nearly half an hour, without once taking off my eyes: they moved in large curves, sweeping in circles, descending and ascending without giving a single flap.