water, which is its favourite resort, its gait is far from awkward.
These birds in a flock utter a noise, that singularly resembles the cry
of a pack of small dogs in full chase: waking in the night, I have more
than once been for a moment startled at the distant sound. The
teru-tero (Vanellus cayanus) is another bird, which often disturbs the
stillness of the night. In appearance and habits it resembles in many
respects our peewits; its wings, however, are armed with sharp spurs,
like those on the legs of the common cock. As our peewit takes its
name from the sound of its voice, so does the teru-tero. While riding
over the grassy plains, one is constantly pursued by these birds, which
appear to hate mankind, and I am sure deserve to be hated for their
never-ceasing, unvaried, harsh screams. To the sportsman they are most
annoying, by telling every other bird and animal of his approach: to
the traveller in the country, they may possibly, as Molina says, do
good, by warning him of the midnight robber. During the breeding
season, they attempt, like our peewits, by feigning to be wounded, to
draw away from their nests dogs and other enemies. The eggs of this
bird are esteemed a great delicacy.
September 16th.--To the seventh posta at the foot of the Sierra
Tapalguen. The country was quite level, with a coarse herbage and a
soft peaty soil. The hovel was here remarkably neat, the posts and
rafters being made of about a dozen dry thistle-stalks bound together
with thongs of hide; and by the support of these Ionic-like columns,
the roof and sides were thatched with reeds. We were here told a fact,
which I would not have credited, if I had not had partly ocular proof
of it; namely, that, during the previous night hail as large as small
apples, and extremely hard, had fallen with such violence, as to kill
the greater number of the wild animals. One of the men had already
found thirteen deer (Cervus campestris) lying dead, and I saw their
_fresh_ hides; another of the party, a few minutes after my arrival
brought in seven more. Now I well know, that one man without dogs
could hardly have killed seven deer in a week. The men believed they
had seen about fifteen ostriches (part of one of which we had for
dinner); and they said that several were running about evidently blind
in one eye. Numbers of smaller birds, as ducks, hawks, and partridges,
were killed. I saw one of the latter with a black mark on its back, as
if it had been struck with a paving-stone. A fence of thistle-stalks
round the hovel was nearly broken down, and my informer, putting his
head out to see what was the matter, received a severe cut, and now
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