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HABITS OF THE RAVEN. 
The tongue of the Raven is rather curiously formed, being broad, flat, covered with a 
horny kind of shield, and deeply cleft at the extremity. At the root are four rather large 
projections or spines, the points being directed backwards. The use of these spines is not 
known, though Mr. Buckland suggests that they may be for the purpose of preventing the 
food from being thrown back into the mouth. I do not, however, think that this suggestion 
is sufficient, as there is no reason why the Raven should regurgitate its food more than other 
birds which feed on similar substances. If the bird were in the habit of eating living prey, 
such as lizards and other reptiles which retain life for a considerable period and after consid- 
erable injuries, this idea might be a good one, but as the Raven always kills its prey before 
eating it, the theory will not hold its ground. 
The cunning of the Raven is proverbial, and anecdotes of its extraordinary intellectual 
powers abound in various works. From the great mass of these stories I can only select one 
or two which are not generally known. 
One of these birds struck up a great friendship for a terrier dog belonging to the landlord 
of an inn, and carried his friendship so far as to accompany his ally in little hunting expedi- 
tions. In these affairs the two comrades used to kill an astonishing number of hares, rabbits, 
and other game, each taking his own share of the work. As soon as they came to a covert, 
the Raven would station himself outside, while the dog would enter the covert and drive out 
the hares from their concealment, taking care to send them in the direction of the watchful 
bird. On his part the Raven always posted himself close to one of the outlets, and as soon as 
any living creature passed within reach, he would pounce upon it, and either destroy it at once 
or wait until the dog came to his assistance, when by their united efforts the prey was soon 
killed. Rat-hunting was a favorite sport of these strange allies, and it was said by those 
who witnessed their proceedings, that the Raven was even more useful than a ferret would 
have been. 
Another and very amusing anecdote of the Raven and its cunning is related by Captain 
McClure, the well-known Arctic voyager. Speaking of the behavior of various birds and 
beasts during the winter, he remarks that the Raven is the hardiest of the feathered tribe, and 
even in the depths of winter, when wine freezes within a yard of the fire, the Raven may be 
seen winging his way through the icy atmosphere and uttering his strange rough, croaking 
cry, as unconcernedly as if the weather w T ere soft and warm as an English spring. “Two 
Ravens,” he observes, “once established themselves as friends of the family in Mercer Bay, 
living mainly by what little scraps the men might have thrown away after meal times. 
“The ship’s dog, however, looked upon them as his especial perquisites, and exhibited 
considerable energy in maintaining his rights against the Ravens, who nevertheless outwitted 
him in a way which amused every one. Observing that he appeared quite willing to make a 
mouthful of their own sable persons, they used to throw themselves intentionally in his way 
just as the mess-tins were being cleared out on the dust heap outside the ship. The dog would 
immediately run at them, and they would just fly a few yards ; the dog then made another 
run, and again they would appear to escape him but by an inch, and so on, until they had 
tempted and provoked him to the shore a considerable distance off. Then the Ravens would 
make a direct flight for the ship, and had generally done good execution before the mortified- 
looking dog detected the imposition that had been practised upon him, and rushed back again.” 
Not long ago, I saw a Raven in a great brewery, holding a large sausage in his beak, and 
flapping about the yard just in front of one of the draymen, to whom the stolen dainty had 
evidently belonged. The bird would not trouble itself to make its escape, but in the most 
provoking manner hopped along just a yard or so before its pursuer, and from all appearance 
as likely to carry on the same game for an hour or tw T o ; for while I was sitting, the relative 
positions of the parties did not alter in the least. If the man stopped, the bird stopped too, 
and began to make such evident preparations for swallowing the sausage that the drayman 
rushed at it again, and again the bird would just flap a yard or two in advance. 
In captivity the Raven is a most amusing, although a terribly mischievous creature, and 
displays a talent for the invention of mischief which can only be equalled by its rapidity of 
execution and audacity of demeanor. Except when placed in an inclosed yard where there is 
