CROW. 173 



is considered as an outlaw, and sentenced to destruction. But 

 the great difficulty is, how to put this sentence in execution. 

 In vain the gunner skulks along the hedges and fences; his faith- 

 ful centinels, planted on some commanding point, raise the alarm, 

 and disappoint vengeance of its object. The coast again clear, 

 he returns once more in silence to finish the repast he had be- 

 gun. Sometimes he approaches the farm-house by stealth, in 

 search of young chickens, which he is in the habit of snatching 

 off, when he can elude the vigilance of the mother hen, who 

 often proves too formidable for him. A few days ago a Crow 

 was observed eagerly attempting to seize some young chickens 

 in an orchard, near the room where I write; but these cluster- 

 ing close round the hen, she resolutely defended them, drove 

 the Crow, into an apple-tree, whither she instantly pursued him 

 with such spirit and intrepidity, that he was glad to make a 

 speedy retreat, and abandon his design. 



The Crow himself sometimes falls a prey to the superior 

 strength and rapacity of the Great Owl, whose weapons of of- 

 fence are by far the more formidable of the two. * 



* "A few years ago," says an obliging 1 correspondent, " I resided on the 

 banks of the Hudson, about seven miles from the city of New York. Not far 

 from the place of my residence was a pretty thick wood or swamp, in which, 

 great numbers of Crows, who used to cross the river from the opposite shore, 

 were accustomed to roost. Returning homeward one afternoon from a shoot- 

 ing excursion, I had occasion to pass through this swamp. It was near sunset, 

 and troops of Crows were flying in all directions over my head. While en- 

 gaged in observing their flight, and endeavouring to select from among them 

 an object to shoot at, my ears were suddenly assailed by the distressful cries of 

 a Crow, who was evidently struggling under the talons of a merciless and rapa- 

 cious enemy. I hastened to the spot whence the sounds proceeded, and to my 

 great surprise, found a Crow lying on the ground, just expiring, and seated 

 upon the body of the yet warm and bleeding quarry, a large brown Owl, who was 

 beginning to make a meal of the unfortunate robber of corn-fields. Perceiving 

 my approach, he forsook his prey with evident reluctance, and flew into a tree 

 at a little distance, where he sat watching all my movements, alternately re- 

 garding, with longing eyes, the victim he had been forced to leave, and darting 

 at me no very friendly looks, that seemed to reproach me for having deprived 





