Conspicuously Black 



This "refined crow" (which is really no crow at all except 

 in appearance) has scarcely more friends than a thief is entitled 

 to ; for, although in many sections of the country it has given up 

 its old habit of stealing Indian corn and substituted ravages upon 

 the grasshoppers instead, it still indulges a crow-like instinct for 

 pillaging nests and eating young birds. 



Travelling in immense flocks of its own kind, a gregarious 

 bird of the first order, it nevertheless is not the social fellow that 

 its cousin, the red-winged blackbird, is. It especially holds 

 aloof from mankind, and mankind reciprocates its suspicion. 



The tallest, densest evergreens are not too remote for it 

 to build its home, according to Dr. Abbott, though in other 

 States than New Jersey, where he observed them, an old 

 orchard often contains dozens of nests. One peculiarity of the 

 grackles is that their eggs vary so much in coloring and mark- 

 ings that different sets examined in the same groups of trees 

 are often wholly unlike. The average groundwork, however, is 

 soiled blue or greenish, waved, streaked, or clouded with brown. 

 These are laid in a nest made of miscellaneous sticks and grasses, 

 rather carefully constructed, and lined with mud. Another pecu- 

 liarity is the bird's method of steering itself by its tail when it 

 wishes to turn its direction or alight. 



Peering at you from the top of a dark pine tree with its 

 staring yellow eye, the grackle is certainly uncanny. There, 

 very early in the spring, you may hear its cracked and wheezy 

 whistle, for, being aware that however much it may look like a 

 crow it belongs to another family, it makes a ridiculous attempt 

 to sing. When a number of grackles lift up their voices at once, 

 some one has aptly likened the result to a "good wi\eel-barrow 

 chorus!" The grackle's mate alone appreciates his efforts as, 

 standing on tiptoe, wiiii half-spread wings and tail, he pours 

 forth his craven soul to her through a disjointed larynx. 



With all their faults, and they are numerous, let it be re- 

 corded of both crows and grackles that they are as devoted lovers 

 as turtle-doves. Lowell characterizes them in these four lines : 



" Fust come the black birds, clatt'rin' in tall trees, 

 And settlin' things in windy Congresses ; 

 Queer politicians, though, for I'll be skinned 

 If all on 'em don't head against the wind." 



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