312 RIVERBY 



VII 



The other day I was walking in the silent, naked 

 April woods when I said to myself, "There is no- 

 thing in the woods." 



I sat down upon a rock. Then I lifted up my 

 eyes and beheld a newly constructed crow's nest in 

 a hemlock tree near by. The nest was but little 

 above the level of the top of a ledge of rocks only a 

 few yards away that crowned the rim of the valley. 

 But it was placed behind the stem of the tree from 

 the rocks, so as to be secure from observation on that 

 side. The crow evidently knew what she was about. 

 Presently I heard what appeared to be the voice of 

 a young crow in the treetops not far off. This I 

 knew to be the voice of the female, and that she was 

 being fed by the male. She was probably laying, 

 or about beginning to lay, eggs in the nest. Crows, 

 as well as most of our smaller birds, always go through 

 the rehearsal of this act of the parent feeding the 

 young many times while the young are yet a long 

 way in the future. The mother bird seems timid 

 and babyish, and both in voice and manner assumes 

 the character of a young fledgeling. The male brings 

 the food and seems more than usually solicitous 

 about her welfare. Is it to conserve her strength 

 or to make an impression on the developing eggs ? 

 The same thing may be observed among the domes- 

 tic pigeons, and is always a sign that a new brood is 

 not far off. 



When the young do come the female is usually 



