ii6 STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. 



But he watches with great interest while a trap is being set for somebody else, 

 such as a fox, or a bear, or a wolf And he does not like to lose sight of it 

 either, for he feels a great hankering after the bait. He waits in his patient 

 and solemn manner until some foolish creature has been caught in the trap, 

 and then, choosing his opportunity, he will step in and devour the bait. He 

 will also rob the nests of other birds, and carry away whatever he finds, 

 whether eggs or chicks. 



It is not easy to come near the raven when he is in his native wilds. But 

 if his nest chanced to be found and taken, he would not try to defend it. He 

 would stand at some distance and look on with a very mournful air, and give 

 now and then a pitiful croak. And he has been seen to fly a long way off, 

 and then, perhaps in an agony of grief, tumble about in the air as if he had 

 been shot. 



The raven feeds, like the crow, on the bodies of dead animals. But if he 

 has a chance of varying his diet, he does not scruple to do so. And a taste of 

 young lamb, or poultry, or even eggs is by no means despised. And it is on 

 this very account that the farmer often puts a price upon his head. There is 

 always a touch of mischief about the raven, and he likes to torment even his 

 friends now and then. 



A gentleman, who is a great friend to the birds, had a pet raven 

 that amused him very much. He had also a pet dog, and, on the whole, 

 the two pets were very friendly. But the raven could not refrain from 

 olaying his companion a few tricks. On a hot summer's afternoon the dog 

 would stretch himself out in the sun for his afternoon's nap, and the raven 

 would stand solemnly by, as if guarding his friend. But all at once, and as 

 quick as lightning, he would give him a sharp peck. The dog would wake up 

 with a growl, and look about him. There stood the raven, as grave and as 

 innocent as could be, and no one could imagine he was the guilty party. The 

 dog did not even suspect him, and after another growl he lay down again to 

 finish his nap. Rut no sooner was he asleep than there came another sharp 

 peck, that roused him up and made him very cross. This time he would look 

 at the raven. But no, the raven has not moved a feather. There he stands, 

 as grave as a judge, and with an air of the utmost innocence. This game 

 would go on for a long time, until the dog lost patience, and walked away, 

 giving up all idea of a nap. 



The raven is getting scarce in England ; he lives in the wild and lonely 



