The Condors generally live by pairs; but among the basaltic cliffs of the plains, high up the river Santa Cruz, I found a spot where scores must usually haunt. They were not shy; and on coming suddenly to the brow of the precipice, it was a fine sight to see between twenty and thirty of these great[1] birds start heavily from their resting place, and wheel away in majestic circles. From the large quantity of dung on the rocks, they must have long frequented this cliff; and probably they both roost and breed there. Having gorged themselves with carrion on the plains below, they retire to these favourite ledges to digest their food in quietness. From these facts, the Condor must, to a certain degree be considered, like the Gallinazo (_Cathartes atratus_), a gregarious bird. In this part of the country they live almost entirely on the guanacoes, which either have died a natural death, or, as more commonly happens, have been killed by the pumas. I believe, from what I saw in Patagonia, that they do not, on ordinary occasions, extend their daily excursions to any great distance from their regular sleeping places. The condors may oftentimes be seen at a great height, soaring over a certain spot in the most graceful spires and circles. On some occasions I am sure that they do this for their sport; but on others, the Chileno countryman tells you, that they are watching a dying animal, or the puma devouring its prey. If the condors glide down, and then suddenly all rise together, the Chileno knows that it is the puma, which, watching the carcass, has sprung out to drive away the robbers. Besides feeding on carrion, the condors frequently attack young goats and lambs. Hence the shepherds train their dogs, the moment the enemy passes over, to run out, and looking upwards, to bark violently. The Chilenos destroy and catch numbers; two methods are used: one is to place a carcass within an enclosure of sticks on a level piece of ground, and when the condors have gorged themselves to gallop up on horseback to the entrance, and thus enclose them: for when this bird has not space to run, it cannot give its body sufficient momentum to rise from the ground. The second method is to mark the trees in which, frequently to the number of five or six, they roost together, and then at night to climb up and noose them; they are such heavy sleepers, as I have myself witnessed, that this is not a difficult task. At Valparaiso I have seen a living condor sold for sixpence, but the common price is eight or ten shillings. One which I saw brought in for sale, had been lashed with a rope, and was much injured; but the moment the line was cut by which its bill was secured, it began, although surrounded by people, ravenously to tear a piece of carrion. In a garden at the same place, between twenty and thirty of these birds were kept alive; they were fed only once a week, yet they appeared to be in pretty good health.[2] The Chileno countrymen