here is but one "squab." The eggs are pure white, like those of the
common kind, and, like them, they breed several times during the year,
but principally when food is plenty. They establish themselves in great
"roosts," sometimes for years together, to which each night they return
from their distant excursions--hundreds of miles, perhaps; for this is
but a short fly for travellers who can pass over a mile in a single
minute, and some of whom have even strayed across the Atlantic to
England! They, however, as I myself have observed, remain in the same
woods where they have been feeding for several days together. I have
also noticed that they prefer roosting in the low underwood, even when
tall trees are close at hand. If near water, or hanging over a stream,
the place is still more to their liking; and in the morning they may be
seen alighting on the bank to drink, before taking to their daily
occupation.

The great "roosts" and breeding-places are favourite resorts for
numerous birds of prey. The small vultures (_Cathartes aura_ and
_Atratus_), or, as they are called in the west, "turkey buzzard," and
"carrion crow," do not confine themselves to carrion alone. They are
fond of live "squabs," which they drag out of their nests at pleasure.
Numerous hawks and kites prey upon them; and even the great white-headed
eagle (_Falco leucocephalus_) may be seen soaring above, and
occasionally swooping down for a dainty morsel. On the ground beneath
move enemies of a different kind, both biped and quadruped. Fowlers
with their guns and long poles; farmers with waggons to carry off the
dead birds; and even droves of hogs to devour them. Trees fall under
the axe, and huge branches break down by the weight of the birds
themselves, killing numbers in their descent. Torches are used--for it
is usually a night scene, after the return of the birds from feeding,--
pots of burning sulphur, and other engines of destruction. A noisy
scene it is. The clapping of a million pair of wings, like the roaring
of thunder; the shots; the shouts; men hoarsely calling to each other;
women and children screaming their delight; the barking of dogs; the
neighing of horses; the "crashes" of breaking branches; and the "chuck"
of the woodman's axe, all mingled together.

When the men--saturated with slaughter, and white with ordure--have
retired beyond the borders of the roost to rest themselves for the
night, their ground is occupied by the p