CHAPTER VII 



SOME ODD BITS OF BIRD LIFE 



Somewhere in the woods west of Highland Park, Illinois, 

 there lives a crow that bears on his back a pure white mark 

 of the size and shape of a silver dollar. "Jim," for so I've 

 named him, seems to know that he is distinguished above 

 other birds and as a result he is much shyer than his brother 

 crows. I ran across this crow curio in the winter of 1899. I 

 have met him several times since then and I have satisfied 

 myself that certain of the bird's characteristics are directly 

 traceable to the big white spot on his back as the first cause. 

 Jim has learned now that if he wishes any comfort in life he 

 must flock by himself. There is no doubt in the minds of his 

 fellow crows that white-spotted Jim is a freak. They keep 

 him always at the distance of a big field's width, and any 

 attempt on his part to approach nearer is met by assault. 



The first time that I saw my friend Jim he was rounding the 

 edge of a belt of timber and making for a plowed field in 

 which four other crows were feeding. From their position 

 they could by no chance have seen his back, and yet 

 they seemed to know that the approaching bird was branded 

 and a pariah. The feeding crows rose as one bird, met 

 Jim half-way, and chased and buffeted him back into the 

 woods. It was in this hurried retreat that Jim's white 

 spot showed prominently and told better than words the 

 story of his persecution. Is it not possible that the crows 

 felt that their brother's marked peculiarity would attract 



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