406 LAND BIRDS 



walled canons cut into the mountain ranges, the hoarse 

 croaking of the Raven echoes back from cliff and wall.'* 

 You may watch him soaring through the canons or over 

 the barren valleys with his mate, but to study his nest- 

 ing habits at close range would require the cunning of a 

 Mephistopheles. Two or three hundred feet above the 

 valley, and from thirty to fifty below the top of the cliff, 

 on a narrow ledge of rock, sheltered by the overhanging 

 mass, is the place he has chosen to build his nest and 

 rear his young. More inaccessible than an eagle's eyrie, 

 few care to investigate it. Thus secure from human 

 interference, year after year the pair return to it when 

 the winter rains have given way to spring sunshine and 

 all the birds of the air are seeking their mates. But the 

 Raven, having chosen once, remains mated for life ; and 

 the nest, once built, serves for all his broods. A few 

 more sticks to strengthen it, a little fresh wool or hair 

 to line it, some strong new rootlets to keep the inner 

 cup in shape, and the cradle is ready. In it are laid 

 five, six, or seven large eggs, greenish, mottled with 

 shades of brown, purple, and pinkish ; and both the birds 

 brood alternately until, in twenty-one days, the nestlings 

 emerge from the shells. They are not handsome babies, 

 being naked and of a sickly greenish hue, as if they had 

 been long dead and had become mummified, but they 

 are the objects of great devotion on the part of both 

 parents. One or the other is constantly near them, on 

 the lookout for danger, and ready to act as a decoy 

 to any aspiring investigator. Meanwhile the other has 

 slipped down to the valley or beach for food. It may 



