32 IN BERKSHIRE FIELDS 



himself. Nor do you need to clip his wings. He 

 will not desert you. Sometimes, perhaps, you will 

 almost wish he would. The crow is by nature gre- 

 garious. If he is not nocking with birds of his 

 feather, he will stick close to his human protectors. 

 He has, too, a strongly developed sense of place, 

 almost like a cat (whom he also resembles in his per- 

 sonal independence and frequent resentment of any 

 handling save a stroking of his head). I knew a 

 pet crow who was left behind for two weeks while 

 the entire family went away on a visit, and when 

 they returned he was strolling about the yard, and 

 came walking, with frequent hops of haste and a 

 short flight or two, to meet them, uttering little 

 caws of welcome. 



The possession of a pet crow is not only an end- 

 less source of amusement — not unmixed at times 

 with annoyance at his mischief, almost as in the 

 case of a pet monkey — but it affords an opportunity 

 to study the habits of the bird, especially his diet. 

 As the whole question of the crow's destructiveness 

 is concerned with his diet, this study has peculiar 

 interest, and the case of Jim Stone, captured in 

 May, 1913, is worth recording. 



Jim's capture was effected in the orthodox man- 

 ner — by the employment of an energetic small boy 

 to climb the pine-tree; and his early upbringing was 

 orthodox, also. His supply of milk-soaked bread 

 was always withdrawn before his pleadings ceased, 

 and in a short time he could perch outside of his 

 barrel, and presently he was placed on the low roof 

 of the woodshed and taught to fly. After this lesson 

 was learned he became a self-sustaining member 



