THE SUMMIT OF THE YEARS 



cative they are ! what picnics they have in the fields 

 and woods, how absolutely at home they are at all 

 times and places ! I see them from my window flying 

 by, by twos or threes or more, on happy, holiday 

 wings, sliding down the air, or diving and chasing one 

 another, or walking about the fields, their coats glis- 

 tening in the sun, the movement of their heads tim- 

 ing the movements of their feet — what an air of 

 independence and respectability and well-being 

 attends them always! The pedestrian crow! No 

 more graceful walker ever trod the turf. How differ- 

 ent his bearing from that of a game-bird, and from 

 any of the falcon tribe! He never tries to hide like 

 the former, never morose and sulky like the latter. 

 He is gay and social and in possession of the land; 

 the world is his and he knows it, and life is good. 



I suppose that if his flesh were edible, like that of 

 the gallinaceous birds, he would have many more 

 enemies and his whole demeanor would be different. 

 His complacent, self-satisfied air would vanish. He 

 would not advertise his comings and goings so loudly. 

 He would be less conspicuous in the landscape; his 

 huge mass-meetings in September would be more 

 silent and withdrawn. Well, then, he would not be 

 the crow — the happy, devil-may-care creature as 

 we now know him. 



His little gayly dressed brother, the jay, does not 

 tempt the sportsman any more than the crow does, 

 but he tempts other creatm-es — the owl and squir- 

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