A WINTER CROW ROOST 15^ 



showed any signs of injury. One was very thin. 

 The case of the other is worth recording in de- 

 tail. It was on January first, 1917, that I dis- 

 covered a crow in the topmost branch of a sk-ndrr 

 fifty- foot ash tree on the edge of the roost. A 

 string had in some way become entangled about 

 one foot and the branch of the tree. Struggle 

 as he would he could not free himself and, al- 

 though he could perch at ease on the branch, he 

 often hung head downwards from it, exhausted 

 by his fruitless efforts. While I watched him 

 and searched my brain for some means for his 

 release, another crow repeatedly swooped down 

 and passed within a few feet or even inches of 

 the poor captive. Both birds were cawing vio- 

 lently. As it was impossible to climb the slender 

 tree I decided to go on to the beach, hoping that 

 in my absence fortune would favor the bird, and 

 that the string might become untangled. On m> 

 return an hour later the victim was still tied 

 fast, while on the ground a few yards from the 

 foot of the tree and directly in my path, was the 

 body of a crow still warm. No other crow was 



weighed only ten ounces and was small in every way, — a casj 

 of the small and unfit perishing." 



