THE CROWS. Ill 



In the immediate environs of London keepers are 

 not about, and even a little further away the land is 

 held by many small owners, and game preservation is 

 not thought of. The numerous pieces of waste ground, 

 "to let on building lease," the excavated ground, 

 where rubbish can be thrown, the refuse and ash 

 heaps these are the haunts of the London crow. 

 Suburban railway stations are often haunted by crows, 

 which perch on the telegraph wires close to the back 

 windows of the houses that abut upon the metals. 

 There they sit, grave and undisturbed by the noisy 

 engines which pass beneath them. 



In the shrubberies around villa gardens, or in the 

 hedges of the small paddocks attached, thrushes and 

 other birds sometimes build their nests. The children 

 of the household watch the progress of the nest, and 

 note the appearance of the eggs with delight. Their 

 friends of larger growth visit the spot occasionally, 

 and orders are given that the birds shall be protected, 

 the gardeners become gamekeepers, and the lawn or 

 shrubbery is guarded like a preserve. Everything 

 goes well till the young birds are almost ready to quit 

 the nest, when one morning they are missing. 



The theft is, perhaps, attributed to the boys of the 

 neighbourhood, but unjustly, unless plain traces of 

 entry are visible. It is either cats or crows. The 

 cats cannot be kept out, not even by a dog, for they 

 watch till his attention is otherwise engaged. Food 

 is not so much the object as the pleasure of destruction, 

 for cats will kill and yet not eat their victim. The 

 crow may not have been seen in the garden, and it 

 may be said that he could not have known of the nest 



