82 Wild Life in Wales 



the praises of a new bride. Assuredly the life of the 

 Carrion Crow would seem to be filled with cares that might 

 stifle song, so far as this country is concerned at any rate, 

 for here nearly every man's hand is turned against him at 

 all seasons, and spring is the time of all others when his 

 enemies most rejoice over his death. He carries his life 

 continually in his hand, so to speak, and it especially 

 behoves him now to go warily, if he would avoid the many 

 traps and poisoned baits laid for his destruction, but this 

 morning he recks not of it. The ardour of spring is in 

 his veins, and though his destiny may be to be nailed to a 

 tree to-morrow, he must sing to-day. John Jones will tell 

 you that ever since he can remember and he was born 

 on the farm more than forty years ago there has been 

 a Corby's nest in Traws-coed, 1 and nearly every year he, 

 or Evan Jones, has put a shot through it, and killed one 

 or both of the old birds. Last year Harry Jones trapped 

 two, and Evan shot a third, yet spite of all the Joneses, 

 a fresh pair turns up every year to take the place of the 

 slain. Where all the Crows come from, or what is the 

 particular attraction about the Traws-coed, is as much a 

 mystery to the Jones family as to other people ; but, like 

 Ravens, it seems well-nigh impossible to banish them from 

 an ancestral home, and yonder dusky robber is now pro- 

 claiming to all whom it may concern that he is, by direct 

 descent, in male tail, as the lawyers would say, the rightful 

 owner of the heritage, and that he is, moreover, prepared 

 to hold it for his lady, by strength or by stealth, against 

 all comers. The Joneses are the only foes he really fears, 

 for hawk, or other winged intruder, is fearlessly engaged, 

 and ruthlessly pursued, should they presume to show face 

 near his domain, and he brooks no rival of his own kith 

 within a mile's radius. He lives by the sword, and is 

 prepared to die by it (or the more fatal gin) when his time 

 comes ; but till then he is equally determined to have a good 

 time, and his rancorous cry, audible though he is a good 

 quarter of a mile away, is his way of expressing the fact 

 that love hath him, too, in the net. It is withal a weird 



1 The Cross Wood. 



