The Raven 



individual significance. Look' looit, look' looit 

 is another phrase I have often heard from birds 

 under surveillance, but its precise meaning I 

 never could make out. An alarm note used by a 

 leader on the rare occasions of assembly is co co 

 cawk' , and this is promptly caught up and re- 

 peated by certain others, as though it were an 

 order given by a colonel. Lastly, there is the 

 low kut'tykut'ty, or chut' to chut' to, a sound of deep 

 disgust, possibly profane, with which a sitting 

 bird quits her nest, upon discovery. 



Of the nesting of the Raven a separate 

 volume might be written, a romance of the 

 wilderness. For, as the Raven's croak is the 

 authentic voice of the wilderness, so is his nest 

 its rightful citadel. To be sure, the pressure of 

 civilization has brought the proud bird to some 

 sorry passes. An observer in Utah 1 tells of a 

 pair of Ravens which nested on a railroad 

 bridge; and I once found a nest in a deserted 

 barn. This last, by the way, was of special in- 

 terest because of a generous |use of beef-ribs 

 in the substructure. But cliffs are the Raven's 

 proper home, and the further removed these are 

 from the madding crowd, the better she likes it. 

 In seeking out the wild canyons and the "breaks" of semi-arid 

 foothill ranges, the Raven finds himself, willy nilly, in close association 

 with the Prairie Falcon (Falco mexicanus). This association must be 

 the result of more than accident, for in a wide country I have found 

 nests of more than a dozen paired couples, Falcons and Ravens, each 

 placed within a few rods, or within a quarter of a mile at most, of the 

 nest of the complementary species, and that although intervening canyons 

 galore went unoccupied. On the whole, I am inclined to think the 

 Prairie Falcon the offender. Coveting the more watchful guardianship 

 of the Raven, the Falcon waits until the Ravens have indicated their 

 choice of a nesting site for the season, and then heaves to in a neighboring 

 cranny. Guarded by the trusty black sentinel, who never allows a 

 stranger to approach his own nest unwarned, the Falcon despatches 

 her chuckling mate to distant pastures, and puts her mind at ease as she 

 settles to her eggs. 



The Raven is true to his trust, but he cannot, of course, repel the 



'H. C. Johnson. "Condor." Vol. 1, p. 72. 



Photo by the Author 

 REGARDANT 



IO 



