AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 283 



HISTORY OF TIM. 



Tim was a little helpless Crow when he was taken from the nest and 

 "brought home. We kept him in a little box and fed him on bread and 

 milk. At first he would not open his mouth, but we would swing a 

 •cloth over his head, and he, thinking the mother had come, would open 

 his mouth wide and we would drop in the bread. Soon he would eat 

 all the bread and milk we would give him. After awhile he was able 

 to walk, then we would take him from the box, and take him to walk. 

 It would have made you laugh to see the funny little hops he took to 

 keep up with us. We used to dig worms for him, and these he liked very 

 much. Soon he became a strong handsome crow, and would take 

 short flights through the orchard, always coming back when we called 

 "Tim," but not always to be caught for he was shy and liked his liber- 

 ty. In order to catch him, we would call him to a big rock that had a 

 hollow in it, in which we would place an e^Z^ then stand ready to put 

 our hands on him. 



One day we went to the flower garden and Tim came and perched 

 on the fence close by. There was a lovely flower that we said was too 

 pretty to pick, so we left it, and had only got into the house when Tim 

 lit on the window sill with the flower in his bill, and looking very 

 proud and wise. He was often busy turning over chips. One day I 

 saw him rolling quite a large stick of wood, arid watched him to see 

 how he could do it. He would put his bill down to the ground under the 

 stick and then open his mouth wide and over the stick would go. Tim 

 had a trick of filling his mouth as full of corn as it would hold, then he 

 would hide it and cover it over with a chip. One day he had dropped 

 his mouthful and was off hunting for a chip. When he came back he 

 found the old duck just gobbling the last of the corn. He dropped the 

 chip, walked up to her and yanked two or three feathers out of her 

 neck. Oh he was mad! 



The first winter I kept him in a big box in the open chamber, and 

 fed him on corn and bread, and fresh meat. He was active all the 

 time. Nights he would busy himself carrying sticks and paper from 

 one end of his box to the other. The next summer Tim was a lovely 

 bird, so black and with such long wings. He did not fear the dog or 

 hens then, but he loved to annoy the old duck, and when she would 

 run for him he would fly on the fence and chatter at her. He could not 

 talk, but he would mock the hens and was a noisy fellow. I would 

 toss papers at him and he would dodge them, then take them and fly 

 away. Well, Tim was a dear bird and we all liked him, and if I had 

 cut his wings we should have him now, but I could not bear to do that 

 so one day in December I let him out, and he flew over the barn then 



