The Western Crow 



swallowed its burden without compunction, in order that it might the 

 more forcibly berate me. 



If the male happened to discover my out-of-doorsness in the absence 

 of his mate, he would rush at her when she hove in sight, in an officious, 

 blustering way, and shout, "Look out there! Keep away! The Rhino 

 is on the rampage again!" 



I learned, also, to recognize the appearance of hawks in the offing. 

 At the first sign the Crow, presumably the male, begins to roll out ob- 

 jurgatory gutturals as he hurries forward to meet the intruder. His 

 utterances, freely translated, run somewhat as follows: "That blank, 

 blank, Swainson Hawk! I thought I told him to keep away from here. 

 Arrah, there, you slab-sided son of an owl! What are ye doing here? 

 Git out o' this! (Biff! Biff!) Git, I tell ye! (Biff!) If ever I set eyes 

 on ye again, I'll feed ye to the coyotes. Git, now!" And all this without 

 the slightest probability that the poor hawk would molest the hideous 

 young pickaninnies if he did discover them. For when was a self-respect- 

 ing hawk so lost to decency as to be willing to "eat crow?" 



Crows, always sociable, become strictly gregarious after the young 

 families are fully grown and ready to merge themselves into the clan. 

 Again, under the rigors of winter, vast companies assemble into what are 

 known as roosts, — nightly, communal associations, which sometimes 

 number thousands. This institution, however, is very much more 

 loosely observed in the West, and has not, apparently, been made the 

 subject of special study. I well remember a trick which two mischievous 

 bird-men played on a Crow roost in Ohio. The birds were using a certain 

 stretch of ' 'second growth ' ' that season, and so were sleeping at a height 

 of only fifteen or twenty feet. We stole out before a hint of dawn, and 

 succeeded in getting to the very centre of the roost unsuspected. So 

 when Brother Jones turned loose a good imitation of a Hoot Owl 's cry, 

 there was something doing. In a silence which could be felt every bird 

 made a desperate leap into midair. And then ensued such a pandemonium 

 of rage as I never was privileged to witness before. The air crashed with 

 sound. Corvine expletives mingled with direst threats; and I suppose 

 if there had been a veritable Horned Owl aloft, he would have been minced 

 in a trice. As it was, our laughter bore witness to the Crows' discomfiture, 

 though their disillusionment was slow, and they moved off grumbling 

 and wondering. 



22 



