watching masses of black cloud coming rapidly over the sky, while a
hundred yards from me stood the two birds also apparently watching the
approaching storm with interest. Presently the edge of the cloud touched
the sun, and a twilight gloom fell on the earth. The very moment the sun
disappeared the birds rose up and soon began singing their long'
resounding notes, though it was loudly thundering at the time, while
vivid flashes of lightning lit the black cloud overhead at short
intervals. I watched their flight and listened to their notes, till
suddenly as they made a wide sweep upwards they disappeared in the
cloud, and at the same moment their voices became muffled, and seemed to
come from an immense distance. The cloud continued emitting sharp
flashes of lightning, but the birds never reappeared, and after six or
seven minutes once more their notes sounded loud and clear above the
muttering thunder. I suppose they had passed through the cloud into the
clear atmosphere above it, but I was extremely surprised at their
fearlessness; for as a rule when soaring birds see a storm coming they
get out of its way, flying before it or stooping to the earth to seek
shelter of some kind, for most living things appear to have a wholesome
dread of thunder and lightning.

When taken young the chakar becomes very tame and attached to man,
showing no inclination to go back to a wild life. There was one kept at
an estancia called Mangrullos, on the western frontier of Buenos Ayres,
and the people of the house gave me a very curious account of it. The
bird was a male, and had been reared by a soldier's wife at a frontier
outpost called La Esperanza, about twenty-five miles from Mangrullos.
Four years before I saw the bird the Indians had invaded the frontier,
destroying the Esperanza settlement and all the estancias for some
leagues around. For some weeks after the invasion the chakar wandered
about the country, visiting all the ruined estancias, apparently in