THE INDIAN CORBY 239 



tied together. One of these twigs, being loose at one 

 end, was pounced upon by a black crow who intended 

 to carry it to his or her nest. But the other end was 

 securely fastened. I watched that crow at intervals for 

 several hours. Whenever I looked it was grappling in 

 vain with the refractory twig. The work was, it is true, 

 frequently interrupted, for natives kept passing by. But 

 immediately the human being had gone, the crow re- 

 sumed the attack. Every now and again it would fly 

 to a dust-bin hard by and alight on the rim in order to 

 take a breather. Occasionally it would dive into that 

 bin in order to secure the wherewithal to feed the inner 

 crow. It would then return to work like a giant 

 refreshed. 



I am of opinion that that dust-bin was to the crow 

 what the public-house is to the British working man. 



