^ clinging, swaying up and down like a bobo- 

 link on a cardinal flower, balancing himself 

 gracefully by spreading his wings, and every 

 few minutes giving the strange cracking 

 l^roW' ay gQ^nd, accompanied by a flirt of his wings 

 and tail as the branch swayed upward. At 

 every repetition the crows hawed in. applause. 

 I watched them fully ten minutes before they 

 saw me and flew away. 



Several times since, I have been attracted 

 by unusual sounds, and have surprised a 

 flock of crows which were evidently watch- 

 ing a performance by one of their number. 

 Once it was a deep musical whistle, much 

 like the too-loo-loo of the blue jay (who is the 

 crow's cousin, for all his bright colors), but 

 deeper and fuller, and without the trill that 

 always marks the blue jay's whistle. Once, 

 in some big woods in Maine, it was a hoarse 

 bark, utterly unlike a bird call, which made 

 me slip heavy shells into my gun and creep 

 forward, expecting some strange beast that I 

 had never before met. 



The same love of variety and excitement 

 leads the crow to investigate any unusual 



