Before everything, however, the Chimango is a vulture, and is to be found at every solitary rancho sharing with dogs and poultry the offal and waste meat thrown out on the dust-heap; or, after the flock has gone to pasture, tearing at the eyes and tongue of a dead lamb in the sheepfold. When the hide has been stripped from a dead horse or cow on the plains, the Chimango is always first on the scene. While feeding on a carcass it incessantly utters a soliloquy of the most lamentable notes, as if protesting against the hard necessity of having to put up with such carrion fare--long, querulous cries, resembling the piteous whines of a shivering puppy chained up in a bleak backyard and all its wants neglected, but infinitely more doleful in character. The gauchos have a saying comparing a man who grumbles at good fortune to the Chimango crying on a carcass; an extremely expressive saying to those who have listened to the distressful wailings of the bird over its meat. In winter a carcass attracts a great concourse of the Black-backed Gulls; for with the cold weather these vultures of the sea abandon their breeding-places on the Atlantic shores to wander in search of food over the vast inland pampas. The dead beast is quickly surrounded by a host of them, and the poor Chimango crowded out. One at least, however, is usually to be seen perched on the carcass tearing at the flesh, and at intervals with outstretched neck and ruffled up plumage uttering a succession of its strange wailing cries, reminding one of a public orator mounted on a rostrum and addressing harrowing appeals to a crowd of attentive listeners. When the carcass has been finally abandoned by foxes, armadillos, gulls, and caracaras, the Chimango still clings sorrowfully to it, eking out a miserable existence by tearing at a fringe of gristle and whetting his hungry beak on the bones.