176 NATURE-STUDY REVIEW [15:5— May, 1919 



the evening. One look at the dog, however, now grown to fearsome 

 long-leggedness, sent Jimmie blaspheming down the ravine and we 

 heard no more of him for weeks. Winter was by no means over 

 and we had just about concluded that Jimmie had starved to death 

 or had been shot, when word came to us that he was three miles out 

 in the country on a chicken farm. Finding the door of the dwelling 

 open he had walked in calling for something to eat. The struggle 

 for existence had not agreed with Jim ; he had grown very thin and 

 had a drooping wing from which he has never entirely recovered 

 although he finally regained his flight. 



There is a common belief that crows will learn to talk if their 

 tongues are slit. Although far from convinced of the truth of this, 

 we decided to split Jimmie's tongue, for we realized that if he 

 could talk, it would be a great advantage to him and no doubt 

 prolong his life which otherwise might be thoughtlessly ended by 

 any boy with a gun or a bean shooter. Jimmie's mistress held him 

 and his master performed the operation with sharp scissors. Only 

 one drop of blood was shed and we put Jim back with the wild fowl 

 to convalesce and learn to talk. Nothing happened although we 

 tried diligently to teach him "hello" and other simple words. His 

 failure to learn any new sounds strengthened our belief that the 

 tongue was not employed. 



It was not until Jimmie was released in the spring that he 

 acquired the ability to make word-like sounds. Most birds do not 

 learn to sing until they are a year old and doubtless Jimmie now 

 gained the necessary control over his vocal muscles. At this time 

 we were away from home and Jimmie lived mostly with the school 

 children and soon began imitating many of their words. When 

 we returned, he greeted us with "Hello," "How d'y do," "Mama," 

 "Papa," and many other articulate sounds. So familiar is Jimmie 

 with the schoolboy lingo that he often fools the teachers. One day 

 he perched on the window sill of a school room and said "Hullo! 

 Hullo!" in a conversational tone, and a boy in the back seat was 

 reprimanded for being a nuisance. Just then Jimmie flew over to 

 the blackboard and began throwing chalk on the floor; when the 

 teacher tried to stop him he pecked her fingers and flew up on the 

 door and gave forth an awful scolding to the great amusement of 

 the children. 



Now as I write Jimmie sits in a big pine tree nearby, talking, 

 laughing, and shouting. Sometimes it sounds like a bevy of girls 



