The Harpy Eagle (Thrasaëtus harpyia) is one of the finest of all the rapacious birds. The enormous development of his beak and legs, and his consequent strength and power in mastering his prey, correspond with his bold and noble bearing and the fierce lustre of his eye. His whole aspect is that of formidably organised power, and even the crest adds much to his terrific appearance. ‘Among many singular birds and curiosities,’ says Mr. Edwards, in his ‘Voyage up the Amazon,’ ‘that were brought to us, was a young harpy eagle, a most ferocious looking character, with a high crest and a beak and talons in correspondence. He was turned loose into the garden, and before long gave us a sample of his powers. With erected crest and flashing eyes, uttering a frightful shriek, he pounced upon a young ibis, and quicker than thought had torn his reeking liver from his body. The whole animal world there was wild with fear.’
HARPY EAGLE.
The harpy attains a greater size than the common eagle. He chiefly resides in the damp lowlands of tropical America, where Prince Maximilian of Neu Wied met with him only in the dense forests, perched on the high branches. The monkey, vaulting by means of his tail from tree to tree, mocks the pursuit of the tiger-cat and boa, but woe to him if the harpy spies him out, for seizing him with lightning-like rapidity, he cleaves his skull with one single stroke of his beak.
Fear seems to be totally unknown to this noble bird, and he defends himself to the last moment. D’Orbigny relates that one day, while descending a Bolivian river in a boat with some Indians, they severely wounded a harpy with their arrows, so that it fell from the branch on which it had been struck. Stepping out of the canoe, the savages now rushed to the spot where the bird lay, knocked it on the head, and tearing out the feathers of its wings, brought it for dead to the boat. Yet the harpy awakened from his trance, and furiously attacked his persecutors. Throwing himself upon D’Orbigny he pierced his hand through and through with the only talon that had been left unhurt, while the mangled remains of the other tore his arm, which at the same time he lacerated with his beak. Two men were hardly able to release the naturalist from the attacks of the ferocious bird.
On turning from the New to the Old World, we find other but not less interesting raptorial birds sweep through the higher regions of the air in quest of prey. The gigantic oricou, or Sociable Vulture (Vultur auricularis), inhabits the greater part of Africa, and builds his nest in the fissures of rocks on the peaks of inaccessible mountains. In size he equals the condor, and his flight is not less bold; leaving his lofty cavern at dawn, he rises higher and higher, till he is lost to sight; but, though beyond the sphere of human vision, the telescopic eye of the bird is at work. The moment any animal sinks to the earth in death, the unseen vulture detects it. Does the hunter bring down some large quadruped, beyond his powers to remove, and leave it to obtain assistance?—on his return, however speedy, he finds it surrounded by a band of vultures, where not one was to be seen a quarter of an hour before.
SOCIABLE VULTURE.
Le Vaillant having once killed three zebras, hastened to his camp, at about a league’s distance, to fetch a wagon; but on returning he found nothing but the bones, at which hundreds of oricous were busy picking. Another time, having killed a gazelle, he left the carcase on the sand, and retired into the bushes to observe what would happen. First came crows, who with loud croakings wheeled round the dead animal: then after a few minutes kites and buzzards appeared, and finally he saw the oricous descending from an enormous height. They alighted upon the gazelle, and soon hundreds of raptorial birds were assembled. Thus the small robbers had first pointed out the way to those of middle size, who in their turn roused the attention of the bandits of a higher order; and none of them came too short, for after the powerful oricous had dismembered the carcase, some very good morsels remained for the buzzards, and the bones furnished excellent pickings for the crows.
The Bacha (Falco bacha, Daudin) inhabits India and Africa, where he sits for days on the peak of precipitous cliffs, on the look-out for rock-rabbits (Hyrax Capensis). These poor animals, who have good reason to be on their guard, venture only with the greatest caution to peep out of the caves and crevices in which they take up their abode, and to which they owe their Dutch name of ‘klipdachs.’ Meanwhile the bacha remains immovable, as if he were part of the rock on which he perches, his head muffled up in his shoulders, but watching with a sharp eye every movement of his prey, until, finally, some unfortunate klipdachs venturing forth, he darts upon him like a thunderbolt. If this rapid attack proves unsuccessful, the bacha slinks away, ashamed, like a lion that has missed his spring, and seeks some new observatory, for he is well aware that no rock-rabbit in the neighbourhood will venture to stroll out during the remainder of the day. But if he succeeds in seizing the klipdachs before it has time to leap away, he carries it to a rocky ledge, and slowly tears it to pieces. The terrible cries of the animal appear to sound like music in his ears, as if he were not only satisfying his hunger but rejoicing in the torments of an enemy. This scene of cruelty spreads terror far and wide, and for a long time no klipdachs will be seen where the bacha has held his bloody repast.