One of Our Neighbors 



By LILLIAN LAMBERT, Cedar Falls, Iowa 



THE theory of evolution — that each form of life has developed through 

 hundreds and thousands of years from a lower form — puts our ideas 

 in regard to life upon a different basis, and establishes more than ever 

 before a kinship among all forms of animals. We, as human beings, have 

 dominion over the lower forms of animals simply because of the superiority 

 of our intellect, but this superiority, instead of making us arrogant, should 

 give us a broader sympathy for our feathered and four-footed brothers, and 

 a keener insight into their world, which is by no means a small one. 



Birds, as a class, are far more intelligent than the average person thinks, 

 and this is especially true of the Crow. Most of us have inherited from our 

 ancestors the epithet "thieving Crow," and a prejudice against him which 

 he little deserves. To say that a Crow steals, gives to him the moral insight 

 into right and wrong which the genus Homo alone possesses. The Crow does, 

 without doubt, annoy the farmer by taking his sprouting corn, and by de- 

 stroying other things of value; but a certain scientist, after examining the 

 stomachs of hundreds of Crows, stated that the injurious insects which they 

 destroyed more than compensated for the annoyance they caused the farmer 

 by their so-called theft and mischief. 



But what is man, I wonder, judged from the Crow's standpoint — that 

 giant monster with a deadly weapon that kills, which he uses with mahcious 

 intent without any provocation whatever? And so, to outwit him, the Crows, 

 before descending on a cornfield, place a sentinel on the top of the tallest 

 tree. He sounds a note of warning at any supposed danger, and the entire 

 flock beat a hasty retreat. But, granting that all the accusations brought 

 against him are true, let us be fair enough to our dusky neighbor to glance a 

 moment at the other side of his character. 



Crows, when young, are easily tamed, and in this state of domestication 

 make pets as affectionate and loyal as the dog. I have in mind a certain tame 

 crow named Bill. He was very fond of his friends, but was averse to all other 

 human beings, especially barefoot boys. Whenever any of these little intruders 

 came into the yard, he would fly at once at their feet, having decided on the 

 most vulnerable point at a glance. The boys generally fled in dismay, fright- 

 ened, but unhurt. His affection for the family, however, knew no bounds. 

 His most cordial greeting was given to the earliest riser, and the members of 

 the family vied with each other in getting up early in order to be the recipients 

 of Bill's special favor. He would ruffle his feathers, roll his eyes, flap his 

 wings gently, and then finally say, "Hello! hello!" in the exact tone of voice 

 that had been used when he was taught the word. He knew one member of 

 the family after he had been separated from her for eight months, and went 

 through this same demonstrative greeting on seeing her. He was very fond 



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