32 WHERE ROLLS THE OREGON 



wild goats, no less is the steep-walled canon and 

 the dizzy mountain cliff the home of the raven. 



Yet the raven is the head of the tribe of 

 crows, with all the intelligence and cunning of 

 the crow, but lacking, it seems, the crow's easy- 

 disposition and sociable ways. Else why is it that 

 he does not adapt himself, as the crow does, to 

 human ways ? Are we at fault *? Not wholly, for 

 we could hardly treat him worse than we have 

 the crow. Perhaps the crows are becoming fewer ; 

 I think they are. The wonder is that a single 

 crow is still alive in the land after all their years 

 of persecution. But here they are, cawing in my 

 wood-lot this quiet November day, as I have 

 heard them since I can remember hearing any- 

 thing. Here in my pines they nest, too. Could 

 not the raven nest here, and croak here, with 

 them*? 



So far as I am concerned he could. Nay, I 

 would give him a whole wood-lot for a nest if 

 he would come. For should I not find him, as I 

 have at last found the crow, to be my friend and 

 ally, instead of my enemy ■? 



A new and better day has dawned for the 

 birds, all birds. The greatest event, surely, that 



