STRANGE CRY OF THE CROW. 237 



want of a tail. Must we then conclude that the 

 dignity of a bird depends upon the length of his 

 tail? We are accustomed to regard the crow as 

 a grave and solemn personage with a serious role 

 in life; and indeed life is such a constant war- 

 fare to him that I cannot see how he finds any 

 enjoyment in it. Lowell says of him at one 

 period: 



"The crow is very comical as a lover, and to 

 hear him try to soften his croak to the proper 

 Saint Preux standard has something the effect 

 of a Mississippi boatman quoting Tennyson." 



If he is droll as a lover, he is much more en- 

 tertaining as an infant. The first I knew of the 

 new use of the pasture, I heard one morning a 

 strange cry. It was loud and persistent, and 

 sounded marvelously like " Ma-a ! Ma-a ! " Min- 

 gled with it I heard the vigorous cries of crows. 



I looked over into the pasture, and there I 

 first saw the crow baby, nearly as big and black 

 as his mamma, but with no tail to speak of. He 

 sat not stood on the rail fence, bawling at 

 the top of his hoarse baby-voice, "Ma! Ma ! 

 Ma!" and as he grew impatient he uttered it 

 faster and faster and louder and louder, draw- 

 ing in his breath between the cries, and making 

 it more like " Wah ! Wah ! " Whenever mamma 

 flew over he followed her movement with his 

 eyes, turning his head, and showing an eager, 



