The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1883-11-03
WHOLE No. 1884.

field, surrounded by woods, and out OF
sight of any landmarks he could possibly
have recognized, he gave the expert
mentors the slip, but four days after he
was nevertheless home. If he ranged
the country at random, the probabilities
would have outlasted the wanderings of
Ulysses. Steering by memory was in
this case out of the question. Was he
guided by sixth sense? Or by the
sense of smell? The distance, in an air.
line. was about one hundred and fifteen
miles. How many intervening objects
Lexington breweries, swamps wood
lands, thousand of blue grass farms and
le-pens-must have disguised the
scent Of an atmosphere he could have
recognized
Nightingales, in their south Spanish
winterquarters, can certainly not smell
the hawthorn hedge of their North
British summer home. Yet they return,
and probably, like cranes, by the short
est route. ANTAGONISTS know that in
birds the organ of smell is very imper-
fectly developed; their nostrils are merely
neutrality-suspicious., and watching them
at their meals leaves no doubt that they
are guided by sight in picking every
morsel of food Hens cannot detect
food in hiding place; they cannot smell
concealed earth. worms, but have to
scratch at random and use their eyes. In
exactly the same way tame vultures
clean up the at-market of Vera Cruz.
They hop about and peer left and right
for scraps and offal; their eyes are every.
where; thei: sense of smell does not
help them to detect single mOrsel
hidden in the dust, for instance, or
under the bottom of light basket that
would not intercept the scent. How do
they find carcass? A hound, hunting
by scent, keeps his nose down, and
would not promote his purpose by climb
ing q mountain and shifting the air from
the summit. A vulture rises above the
clouds. If he had to hunt on the ca
nine plan, he would skim along the
ground. High in the summit-regions
of Mount Antisana, Bonpland saw
condor at an immense elevation above
him; and even the Texas zopilote, a near
relative Of our turkey buzzard, ascends
to height of four English miles, and,
v,on1l fo, oh -. &ol
atmosphere of the lower world. Yet,
even on days when there is no zopolite
in sight, half an hour after a mule has
dropped on the loneliest bridle.path of
the Mexican Cordilleras, a pack of the
aerial hounds are sure to put in an
appearance. 1t matters not if the acct
dent has happened on an open table. land
or.in deep mountain glen, or even in the
woods. Watching the sky from an open
cliff, speck may be discerned here and
there on the distant horizon, slowly but
steadily approaching, as if drawn By an
invisible cord-intuitively, in default Of
better word.
About vultures there hangs another
mystery. How do they support them
selves in sailing along with immovabls
wings,-not in straight line only, but
in a spiral, and often in narrow circle9
Judging by the testimony of human eyes
they seem to hold their wings and tail
feathers in a perfectly rigid stretch, and
yet they 60 both with and against the
wind and maintain any desired elevation.
At a height of five English miles the air
must be nearly as rarefied as in the va
cuum-bell of an air-pump; yet in that
tenuous medium bird as heavy as a
good-sized bulldog will hang suspended
for hours together and without any
visible effort. Birds have hollow bones,
and it has been suggested that they can
lesson their weight by filling these tubes
with warm air; but all the bones in a
condor's body can hardly hold more
than six pints of air; can that amount
buoy weight of twenty-six pounds? Or
can it be that birds perform their bal
looming by means of a gas our chemists
have as yet not discovered?
How can the experience of a dying
dog affect the instincts of his posterity?
Nobody who has watched a wounded
horse, bear, monkey, or a deer, and
their strange conduct at the gate of
Nirvana, can doubt that they fully
realize the significance of the coming
change. Not rage or pain, but strange
usefulness and uneasiness, followed by
the plainest symptoms of despair, ex-
press themselves in their features. Long
before his senses are clouded by actual
syncope, dying dog ceases to mind his
surroundings; his eyes assume far-off
look; he notices, but gradually ignores,
the presence of his master; his thoughts
are elsewhere, -who knows where p
but the expression of his eyes proves
that he has realized the fact that the
surrounding objects have lost their i'm
portance for him. And even when
family duties engross the attention of
dying beast, its haste or it's strange
carefulness proves how we'll it knows
that there is no time to lose and that it
performs its work of love for the last
time. A crippled squirrel, coming home
to die, will use its last strength to close
the moss roof over the bed of it's half
grown youngsters, in the hope that they
may somehow manage to survive the
chill March winds and shift with the
scant store of winter provisions.
pincotts Magazine.
Believing but Not Understanding.