The female is less in size; her legs are destitute of spurs; her neck and head are less naked, being furnished with short, dirty, gray feathers; the feathers on the back of the neck have brownish tips, producing on that part a brown, longitudinal band. She also, frequently, but not invariably, wants the tuft of feathers on the breast. Her prevailing color is a dusky gray, each feather having a metallic band, less brilliant than that of the cock, then a blackish band, and a grayish fringe. Her whole color is, as usual among birds, duller than that of the cock; the wing-feathers display the white, and have no bands; the tail is similarly colored to that of the cock. When young, the sexes are so much alike that it is not easy to discern the difference between them; and the cock acquires his beauty only by degrees, his plumage not arriving at perfection until the fourth or fifth year. The habits of these birds in their native wilds are exceedingly curious. The males, called _Gobblers_, associate in parties of from ten to a hundred, and seek their food apart from the females, which either go about singly with their young, at that time about two-thirds grown, or form troops with other females and their families, sometimes to the number of seventy or eighty. These all avoid the old males, who attack and destroy the young, whenever they can, by reiterated blows upon the skull. But all parties travel in the same direction, and on foot, unless the dog or the hunter or a river on their line of march compels them to take wing. When about to cross a river, they select the highest eminences, that their flight may be more sure, and in such positions they sometimes stay for a day or more, as if in consultation. The males upon such occasions gobble obstreperously, strutting with extraordinary importance, as if to animate their companions; and the females and the young assume much of the same pompous manner, and spread their tails as they move silently around. Having mounted, at length, to the tops of the highest trees, the assembled multitude, at the signal note of their leader, wing their way to the opposite shore. The old and fat birds, contrary to what might be expected, cross without difficulty, even when the river is a mile in width; but the wings of the young and the meagre, and, of course, those of the weak, frequently fail them before they have completed their passage, when they drop in, and are forced to swim for their lives, which they do cleverly enough, spreading their tails for a support, closing their wings, stretching out their necks, and striking out quickly and strongly with their feet. All, however, do not succeed in such attempts, and the weaker often perish.