26 WILD LIFE IN CHINA. 



The Monks and the Friars they searched till dawn; 



When the Sacristan saw, On crumpled claw. 

 Come limping a poor little lame jackdaw, 



No longer gay, As on yesterday: 

 His feathers all seemed to be turned the wrong way. 

 His pinions drooped, he could hardly stand, 

 His head was as bald as the palm of your hand. 



His eye so dim, So wasted each limb. 

 That heedless of grammar, they all cried "That's him." 

 So of course it was, for "midst the sticks and the straw 

 was the ring in the nest of that little jackdaw." 



We do not see many jackdaws in Shanghai though there 

 are plenty of them in the province. So of choughs, which 

 are usualh' more abundant nearer the coast line or the mouth 

 of the Yangtze. Graciihis crcmita is the red-billed or com- 

 mon chough. But he is a step farther from the true crows 

 than the magpie which so often claims attention. 



Pica Caitdata is the classic name of the common mag- 

 pie, which seems to be nearly ubiquitous. All over Europe 

 and Northern Asia he is found. All over China, and in the 

 Western States of America, but, if I remember rightly, not 

 in the Eastern. Much of what has been said of the jackdaw 

 might be told of the magpie. When tamed he isa charming pet, 

 companionable, talkative, and fullof that knowingness which is 

 a characteristic of his race. InEnglandhe is a constant mark 

 for the keeper's gun and, though a favourite of mine, it must 

 be admitted rightly, since in common with his tribe — for even 

 when white or pied they are all "tarred with the same brush,"' 

 — he is a dreadful thief, a rank robber, and a pirate of the worst 

 kind, though, to look at him, you might be tempted to think 

 him always, what he is onl}^ sometimes, the farmer's friend. 

 He steals the eggs of fowls as well as of small birds, he kills 

 nestlings, and behaves himself like the China coast pirates 

 used to do, as perfectly honest when there was no chance of 

 being anything else. The story of his nesting skill, and 

 how he once called the other birds together so that they, too, 

 might learn how to put a roof over their heads, is too well 

 known to bear repetition. In return for his sport-spoiling 

 powers he is sometimes called on to provide sport himself. 

 Magpie catching is one of the most exciting kinds of that old- 

 world form of the chase — hawking. Magpies in China are 

 more sociable than those in England, perhaps because there 

 are so many more of them, but they cannot put up with the 

 communism of the rook. The magpie is a strict individualist. 

 No Socialist need hope for welcome in his territory. For 

 years a single pair ruled the British Consular compound and 

 the Public Garden in Shanghai with far more severity than 

 either Consul or Council. No other bird of the kind dared 



