Io8 Ways of Wood Folk. 



very edge of the grove, and pecked through did I see 

 the performer. Out on the end of a long dehcate 

 branch, a few feet above the ground, a small crow was 

 clinging, swaying up and down like a bobolink on a 

 cardinal flower, balancing himself gracefully by spread- 

 ing his wings, and everyfew minutes giving the strange 

 cracking sound, accompanied by a ffirt of his wings 

 and tail as the branch swayed upward. At every 

 repetition the crows hazvcd in applause. I watched 

 them fully ten minutes before they saw me and flew 

 away. 



Several times since, I have been attracted by unu- 

 sual sounds, and have surprised a flock of crows which 

 were evidently watching a performance by one of their 

 number. Once it was a deep musical whistle, much 

 like the too-loo-loo of the blue jay (who is the crow's 

 cousin, for all his bright colors), but deeper and fuller, 

 and without the trill that always marks the blue jay's 

 whistle. Once, in some big woods in Maine, it was 

 a hoarse bark, utterly unlike a bird call, which made 

 me slip heavy shells into my gun and creep forward, 

 expecting some strange beast that I had never before 

 met. 



The same love of variety and excitement leads the 

 crow to investigate any unusual sight or sound that 

 catches his attention. Hide anywhere in the woods, 

 and make any queer sound you will — play a jcws'-harp. 



