California Condor Eben McMillan 12 August 1963 At 9:30 A.M., en route to San Luis Obispo, California, I stopped and looked for remains of the Golden Eagle that Paul Freeborn told me about yesterday, but could find no signs of its presence. At 2:10 P.M. fifteen buzzards came to feed on the carcass of a small sheep that I had brought back from the Carrissa plains with me yesterday. One buzzard of this group that at first was master of the flock and was standing on the sheep carcass while the others waited their turn, was challenged by another buzzard that had just flown in and alighted near the carcass. A struggle for mastery of the situation ensued. The fighting was intense. One buzzard would grasp its opponent by the skin of its hood with its beak and hang on while the opponent flapped and floundered about on the ground until it broke the hold only to dash in and grasp its opponent in the same manner and inflict like punishment. This fighting continued for some three or four minutes when one of the buzzards in the fight gave up and flew a few feet away, whereby the winner took over the carcass and enjoyed the respect of all other buzzards gathered about this particular feast. No Condor showed up to feed on the sheep carcass mentioned above that had been opened with an axe last evening and left about 100 yards west of the windmill, in the Pass, to the southwest of my home about 3/7th of a mile from my house.