STRANGE CRY OF THE CROW. 237 



want of a tail. Must we then conclude that the 

 dignity of a bird depends upon the length of his 

 tail? We are accustomed to regard the crow as 

 a grave and solemn personage with a serious role 

 in life ; and indeed life is such a constant war- 

 fare to him that I cannot see how he finds any 

 enjoyment in it. Lowell says of him at one 

 period: — 



"The crow is very comical as a lover, and to 

 hear him try to soften his croak to the proper 

 Saint Preux standard has something the effect 

 of a Mississippi boatman quoting Tennyson." 



If he is droll as a lover, he is much more en- 

 tertaining as an infant. The first I knew of the 

 new use of the pasture, I heard one morning a 

 strange cry. It was loud and persistent, and 

 sounded marvelously like " Ma-a ! Ma-a ! " Min- 

 gled with it I heard the vigorous cries of crows. 



I looked over into the pasture, and there I 

 first saw the crow baby, nearly as big and black 

 as his mamma, but with no tail to speak of. He 

 sat — not stood — on the rail fence, bawling at 

 the top of his hoarse baby-voice, "Ma! Ma ! 

 Ma!" and as he grew impatient he uttered it 

 faster and faster and louder and louder, draw- 

 ing in his breath between the cries, and making 

 it more like " Wah ! Wah ! " Whenever mamma 

 flew over he followed her movement with his 

 eyes, turning his head, and showing an eager, 



