50 IN BERKSHIRE FIELDS 



suddenly settle, usually on the ground, remain 

 silent for a few moments, and then as suddenly rise 

 and begin wheeling and cawing again. If, at such 

 times, you approach them, they scatter and do not 

 collect again. If they are engaged in worrying some 

 foe, however, they almost invariably regather. At 

 these playtimes, too, their cawing has a different 

 sound, less profane and raucous. Are there any 

 other of our native birds which even appear to 

 play? 



But the crow does not escape attack, in his turn, 

 by birds smaller than himself, upon whose eggs and 

 young he sometimes preys — which is his real sin. 

 Every one has seen a crow flying along a New Eng- 

 land pasture hedgerow in June, and heard the at- 

 tendant startled clamor of the smaller birds, fearful 

 for their young ; and every one has probably seen a 

 crow, perhaps the same marauder, set upon by a 

 pair of king-birds — pugnacious fellows who appear 

 to have constituted themselves a police force — and 

 driven off. They fly over the head of the larger 

 bird, like airplanes over a dirigible, and dart down 

 savagely from time to time. The crow never rel- 

 ishes these attacks any more than the hawk does, 

 and usually flies for cover as speedily as possible. 

 Just how much damage the crow does to the young 

 of the smaller birds it is difficult to estimate, if not 

 quite impossible. Edward A. Samuels, in his book 

 on the birds of New England and adjacent states, 

 reports some very destructive pirates which came 

 under his observation, and the farmer referred to 

 above declared to me recently that he had seen one 

 crow rob two robins' nests, two chipping-sparrows' 



