ever dive and gambol in the air, and never
swoop down upon their prey; unlike the hawks also, they appear to have
no enemies. The crow fights the hawk, and the kingbird and the crow
blackbird fight the crow; but neither takes any notice of the buzzard.
He excites the enmity of none, for the reason that he molests none.
The crow has an old grudge against the hawk, because the hawk robs the
crow's nest and carries off his young; the kingbird's quarrel with the
crow is upon the same grounds. But the buzzard never attacks live
game, or feeds upon new flesh when old can be had.

In May, like the crows, they nearly all disappear very suddenly,
probably to their breeding-haunts near the seashore. Do the males
separate from the females at this time, and go by themselves? At any
rate, in July I discovered that a large number of buzzards roosted in
some woods near Rock Creek, about a mile from the city limits; and, as
they do not nest anywhere in this vicinity, I thought they might be
males. I happened to be detained late in the woods, watching the nest
of a flying squirrel, when the buzzards, just after sundown, began to
come by ones and twos and alight in the trees near me. Presently they
came in greater numbers, but from the same direction, flapping low
over the woods, and taking up their position in the middle branches.
On alighting, each one would blow very audibly through his nose, just
as a cow does when she lies down; this is the only sound I have ever
heard the buzzard make. They would then stretch themselves, after the
manner of turkeys, and walk along the limbs. Sometimes a decayed
branch would break under the weight of two or three, when, with a
great flapping, the would take up new positions. They continued to
come till it was quite dark, and all the trees about me were full. I
began to feel a little nervous, but kept my place. After it was
entirely dark and all was still, I gathered a large pile of dry leaves
and kindled it with a match, to see what they would think of a fire.
Not a sound was heard till the pile of leaves was in full blaze, when
instantaneously every buzzard started. I thought the treetops were
coming down upon me, so great was the uproar. But the woods were soon
cleared, and the loathsome pack disappeared in the night.

About the 1st of June I saw numbers of buzzards sailing around over
the great Falls of the Potomac.

A glimpse of the birds usually found here in the latter part of winter
may be