THE CROW. 11 
and neck around in the intelligent crow fashion, 
circled back to the woods, lit, and cawed vocifer- 
ously to three other crows till they came over 
across the pasture. 
After making them all circle over my head, per- 
haps merely as a blind, he took them back to his 
perch where he wanted them to go beechnutting 
— or something else. Whatever it was, they evi- 
dently scorned his childishness, for they flew back 
to their tree across the field as fast as they had 
come. This put him in a pet, and he would not 
budge, but sat there sputtering like a spoiled 
child. To everything he said, whether in a com- 
plaining or teasing tone, the same gruff paternal 
caw came back from the pasture. “Come along!” 
it seemed to say. To this the refractory son would 
respond, “I won’t.” They kept it up for several 
minutes, but at last paternal authority conquered, 
and the big boy, making a wide detour, flew slowly 
and reluctantly back to his family. He lit ona 
low branch under them, and when the father gave 
a gruff “1 should think it was time you came,” he 
defiantly shook his tail and cleaned his bill. After 
a few moments he condescended to make a low 
half sullen, half subdued remark, but when the 
family all started off again he sat and scolded 
some time before he would follow them, and I 
suspect he compromised matters then only because 
he did not want to be left behind. 
The “intelligence of the crow” has become a 
