CROWS— BLACK AND GREY 139 



which they swoop down upon, never hovering hke a hawk ; 

 and if food fail them there, they take to the sea- beach or 

 mudflats, feeding upon dead fish and worms; or else they 

 go to the stacks and rob the farmer of his corn, pulling it 

 out secundem artem ; or else they hie to the green turnip- 

 fields for worms and slugs, and in an Arctic winter they 

 will eat raw potatoes and turnips to stay their pinched 

 stomachs. And when the blackthorn is in flower, the}^ 

 frequent the lambing pens, pecking the eyes from sick or 

 sleeping lambs, or tearing the tender flesh from the dead 

 young lambkins that lie by the dike-side. At this season, too, 

 they follow the bottom-fyer, proding the soft black mud for 

 small eels, worms, and fish scooped from the sluggish dikes ; 

 or else they are preying upon young rabbits or leverets, or 

 cutting at the early-laying peewit, whose eggs they love as 

 well as any gourmet. 



But with the first of April they begin to move towards 

 the warrens, where the first peewits lay and the young 

 rabbits live, and you may see flocks of them sitting about 

 waiting for a southerly or sou'-westerly wind, when off they 

 go, flying up to a height and starting off to travel over the 

 sea. But all do not go at once. Some stay to enjoy the 

 early eggs and a few dishes of young birds or frogs ; but 

 when May comes in most have gone, but not all. Every 

 summer a few remain, but not to breed, so far as is known. 

 I have seen them by the sandhills, and on Breydon, in every 

 month of the year, sometimes in company with rooks. All 

 winter through you may hear their hoarse cawing — bird 

 calling bird through the dreary landscape. " Quah, quah, 

 quah," a cock will call, and his rival, some hundred yards 

 off, will answer in the same tone of voice, "Quah, quah, 

 quah." Then his voice will grow shriller, and he will 

 call quickly, " Quah, quah, quah," and the rival will again 

 answer in the same tone of voice, till both, tired out, will 

 cease calling. And on grey days you see them sitting on 

 bare trees, silent and grim as the dead. 



