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 wheel-barrow 
chorus!” The grackle’s mate alone appreciates his efforts as, 
standing on tiptoe, with 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.” 
45 
