sight, and vice versa. When I visited the Southern States, and had lived, as it were, amongst these Vultures for several years, and discovered thousands of times that they did not smell me when I approached them, covered by a tree, until within a few feet; and that when so near, or at a greater distance, I shewed myself to them, they instantly flew away much frightened; the idea evaporated, and I assiduously engaged in a series of experiments, to prove to myself, at least, how far this acuteness of smell existed, or if it existed at all.
I sit down to communicate to you the results of those experiments, and leave for you to conclude how far and how long the world has been imposed on by the mere assertions of men who had never seen more than the skins of our Vultures, or heard the accounts from men caring little about observing nature closely.
My First Experiment was as follows:—I procured a skin of our common deer, entire to the hoofs, and stuffed it carefully with dried grass until filled rather above the natural size,— suffered the whole to become perfectly dry, and as hard as leather,—took it to the middle of a large open field,—laid it down on its back with the legs up and apart, as if the animal was dead and putrid. I then retired about a hundred yards, and in the lapse of some minutes, a Vulture, coursing round the field tolerably high, espied the skin, sailed directly towards it, and alighted within a few yards of it. I ran immediately, covered by a large tree, until within about forty yards, and from that place could spy the bird with ease. He approached the skin, looked at it with apparent suspicion, jumped on it, raised his tail, and voided freely (as you well know all birds of prey in a wild state generally do before feeding),—then approaching the eyes, that were here solid globes of hard, dried, and painted clay, attacked first one and then the other, with, however, no farther advantage than that of disarranging them. This part was abandoned; the bird walked to the other extremity of the pretended animal, and there, with much exertion, tore the stitches apart, until much fodder and hay was pulled out; but no flesh could the bird find or smell; he was intent on discovering some where none existed, and, after reiterated efforts, all useless, he took flight and coursed about the field, when, suddenly wheeling round and alighting, I saw him kill a small garter snake, and swallow it in an instant. The Vulture rose again, sailed about, and passed several times quite low over the stuffed deer-skin, as if loth to abandon so good looking a prey.
