iVH 

 JACK CROW 



AFTER the heavy shut-in winter period, the first 

 spring day sets my being all ajump to be out and 

 away across the hills and the fields, to be refreshed by 

 the gladness of the new sunshine and brought out of my 

 winter sleep with the other creatures of Nature. 



One morning early, when spring was not yet old, the 

 call came to me and I was up and afield with the sun. 

 I was eager to be out among the wild folk, and see their 

 joy in the good weather and their calmness and rest in 

 the sunlit woods. 



Were you ever in a hurry to get to the woods? I was 

 that morning, but I didn't want to seem too anxious to 

 myself, so I sauntered down the path and struck off 

 through the rows of corn toward the dark grove hemming 

 them in. I was not at home, and the charm of a strange 

 land was with me. 



The green corn-field lay in the hollow with the big 

 woods all around. Just at the corner of the field, between 

 the tall pines and the rustling corn blades, I picked up a 

 young Crow (Corvus americanus) with his wing hurt. 

 Surmising that there were others somewhere near, I began 

 a hunt and found two more little black fellows in a nest 

 in an old pine. It was a real crow home, with the rough 

 sticks piled hastily in the crotch of the old storm-broken 



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