The Raven 



The Raven's reputed wit failed him, however, in another instance 

 recorded during the same season of 1916. We were working in the 

 juniper country west of the Carriso plains, and we noticed a pair of birds 

 engaged about a low cliff at the head of a small spur canyon. I watched 

 them through binoculars as they brought several sticks to a certain 

 point on the ledge. Investigation disclosed an astonishing condition of 

 affairs. The daffy birds had been trying to lodge the foundations of a 

 nest in a small sloping crevice where any sort of lodgment was practically 

 impossible. As a result, every stick had fallen, in its turn, until a pile six 

 feet in diameter and not less than two feet high lay at the bottom of the 

 cliff — two hundred pounds weight of wood, and not a mud-sill to the good 

 yet! And about forty feet along under the same cliff was another stick 

 pile, evidently the accumulation of the preceding season. These birds 

 were obsessed with the determination to occupy this cliff whether or no, 

 and had gone childless for two seasons! Manifestly a case for the alienist. 



Of the Raven as a captive a separate volume might be written. 

 When we shall have recovered somewhat from our present excessive 

 devotion to protectionism, we may avail ourselves again of the unending 

 interest which attaches to the study of the psychology of birds at close 

 range. No fitter subject could be found than the Raven. Cunning, 

 agile, adroit, and intensely mischievous, a Raven brought up by hand is, 

 nevertheless, capable of a considerable affection. He is reputed a good 

 talker, albeit with speech of a certain muffled quality, due no doubt to 

 the "depth" of his voice. Having, like the Crow and the Magpie, an 

 incurable fondness for bright articles, as well as a destructive disposition, 

 he cannot be allowed to run at large; nor, indeed, to be caged with smaller 

 birds. No one, therefore, ought to undertake the task of rearing a Raven 

 who is not prepared to give it abundant cage room, and to profit fully by 

 the opportunity for psychological study thereby afforded. For the rest, 

 the Raven is likely to outlive its captor; for it is the very symbol of 

 longevity, having attained in several instances, according to credible 

 testimony, a full century. Think of it! A centenarian Mephistopheles 

 with feathers still unsinged! 



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