When I reached the junipers, the crows 

 — half a hundred of them — were ranged in 

 the pine tops along one edge of the open. 

 _ They were quiet enough, save for an occa- 



t/row- y sional scramble for position, evidently wait- 

 ing for something to happen. Down on my 

 right, on the fourth or open side of the 

 pasture, a solitary old crow was perched in 

 the top of a tall hickory. I might have 

 taken him for a sentry but for a bright 

 object which he held in his beak. It was 

 too far to make out what the object was ; 

 but whenever he turned his head it flashed 

 in the sunlight, like a bit of glass. 



As I watched him curiously he launched 

 himself into the air and came speeding down 

 the center of the field, making for the pines 

 at the opposite end. Instantly every crow 

 was on the wing; they shot out from both 

 sides, many that I had not seen before, all 

 cawing like mad. They rushed upon the 

 old fellow from the hickory, and for a few 

 moments it was impossible to make out any- 

 thing except a whirling, diving rush of black 

 wings. The din meanwhile was deafening. 



