242 THE COMICAL CROW BABY. 



Day by clay the excitement in the crow world 

 grew, and new families appeared in the pasture 

 as fast as old ones got out. The rails of the 

 fence were always occupied by young ones — 

 though never more than five or six at a time — 

 crying and shrieking and calling for "Ma-a!" 

 and old ones all the time flying about half dis- 

 tracted, cawing and trying, I suppose, to enforce 

 some order and discipline among the unruly 

 rogues. Order, however, was quite a secondary 

 consideration ; the pressing duty of the hour was 

 feeding. A crow parent on a foraging expedi- 

 tion is a most unwelcome visitor to the farmer 

 with young chickens, or the bird-lover interested 

 in the fate of nestlings. Yet when I saw the 

 persecuted creature in the character of provider 

 for four hungry and ever clamorous mouths, to 

 whose ' wants she is as alive as we are to the 

 wants of our babies, I took a new view of crow 

 depredations, and could not see why her children 

 should not have a chicken or a bird for break- 

 fast, as well as ours. Poor hunted crow, against 

 whom every man's hand is raised! She feels, 

 with reason, that every human being is a deadly 

 enemy thirsting for her life, that every cylinder 

 pointed upward is loaded with death, that every 

 string is a cruel snare to entangle and maim 

 her, — yet whose offspring, dear as ours to us, 

 clamor for food. How should she know that it 



