IN GREEN ALASKA 



from the red man as we know him. lie is smaller 

 in stature and lighter in color, and has none of that 

 look as of rocks and mountains, austere and relent- 

 less, that our Indians have. He also takes more 

 kindly to our ways and customs and to our various 

 manual industries. 



In reaching the land of the Indian we had reached 

 the land of the raven also — few crows, but many 

 ravens. We saw them upon the beach and around 

 the wharf long before we landed. In the village they 

 were everywhere — on the roofs of the houses, 

 and on the stumps and dooryard fences. Six were 

 perched upon one of the towers of the church as I 

 approached. Their calls and croakings and jabber- 

 ings were in the ear at all times. The raven is a 

 much more loquacious bird than the crow. His 

 tongue is seldom still. When he has no fellow to talk 

 to he talks to himself, and his soliloquy is often full 

 of really musical notes. In these Alaskan settlements 

 they appear to act as scavengers, like the buzzards 

 in the South. Other birds that attracted my atten- 

 tion were the song sparrow, a nest of which with 

 young I found amid some bushes near one of the 

 houses, and the russet-backed thrush, which was 

 flitting about the streets and gardens. 



In the afternoon we were steaming over a vast 

 irregular-shaped body of water — Clarence Straits. 

 On one side the sky and water met in a long hori- 



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