The Audubon Societies 319 



when she saw that I was not going to hurt them, she stopped scolding. Then 

 she called her young ones to her and they flew away and I went into the house. 

 This story I tell you is true. — David Loveland, (age, 8 years), Lincoln, Neb. 



[The little boy's mother adds: "l saw the two baby Wrens alight on his legs, one on 

 each leg, as he was standing still, eating cherries from the tree in our back yard. David 

 is a member of our Twentieth Street Audubon Society and is much interested in birds." 

 This is a valuable observation with reference to the actions of young birds. — A. H. W.] 



MY FRIEND, JIM CROW 



Doubtless, when you read the title of my story, some of you will say, "She is not 

 very careful in her selection of a friend." However, in spite of the bad reputation of this 

 bird family, I will not change it, for, judging from my personal acquaintance with these 

 birds, I know that, like some human beings. Crows are not as black as they appear. 

 Their intelligence and cleverness cannot help but win the admiration of those who know 

 them well. 



I have had the pleasure of taming three. Crows, but I shall tell only of some of the 

 experiences with the one that I had for over two years, the one which was so faithful 

 that he refused to associate with any of the Crow family who tried to coax him away, 

 but remained with me during two cold winters. 



Our acquaintance began when he was pushed out of the nest, a baby Crow, so young 

 that all he knew was to open his mouth wide and call for food as soon as I appeared. 

 He was so helpless, he could not even walk, but would flap his wings and call until his 

 hunger was satisfied with a liberal supply of bread and milk. 



After a time, he was able to travel, and would follow me about, but began to depend 

 more upon himself to find food. 



He was my faithful attendant to and from school, or to the village, watching from 

 the pine tree in the yard, and flying to meet me at noon and night when I returned home. 

 If there was any special work to be done, Jim was there to superintend it and nothing 

 seemed to escape his bright eyes, as he sat with his head cocked on one side, closely 

 watching. 



He was fond of bright colored objects, and nothing of the kind was safe with him, 

 for sad to relate, Jim was a thief. 



One time, on returning from a neighbor's, I found he had entered an open window 

 and was sitting on the sewing-machine with a silver thimble in his bill. Before I could 

 rescue it, he swallowed it. Thinking about what the owner would say (for she was not as 

 fond of Jim as I), I grasped him by the throat and choked him until he spit out the thim- 

 ble. With an angry squawk, he flew away, refusing to notice me for a long time. 



One kind of work, in which Jim was especially interested, was the washing, and at this 

 time he required watching, for no sooner were the clothes pinned to the line, than he was 

 after the clothes-pins, which he carried away to some hiding-place, sometimes tucking 

 them under the shingles on the roof, sometimes in trees near the house, where we after- 

 ward found them. If discovered at this mischief, he would ha! ha! as if it were a good 

 joke. 



Mother failed to see the humor of it, and one washday, saying "Old fellow, we'll see !" 

 pinned some of the clothes to the line with common pins, thinking there would be no 

 more trouble. But Jim was equal to the occasion, and a little later, a row of pins was dis- 

 covered on the ground beneath the clothes-line. 



Members of the family were not the only victims of Jim's thievish pranks — even the 

 cat did not escape. One day, Jim spied her playing with a mouse, and the temptation to 



