62 
ALMOST HUMAN 
When the European cranes were the proud possessors of a baby, 
the coot did not trouble them very much. He considered they were 
quite well-enough entertained by the delicate little fledgling that occupied 
every waking moment of both parents. But when a sharp frost deprived 
them of their treasure, he seemed to realise what an awful gap the 
baby’s death had left in their lives, and began to pay them frequent 
visits of condolence. They showed their delight in his company so 
ecstatically that he even tolerated their elaborate ritual of welcome, which 
he had been apt to regard as tedious and unnecessary before. He 
stood it patiently as long as they went through their evolutions, without 
even a shrug of the shoulders, though as soon as they reached him he 
hopped off with every symptom of relief towards their breakfast dish, 
one of the great birds on either side as an escort. Then he felt at 
liberty to throw aside conventionality and settle down quietly to a nap, 
disregarding all the entreaties of the other birds to call upon them. He 
knew he was needed by these two birds, and he would stay with them 
as a member of the family. Since then he has been found more 
frequently with the two bereaved cranes than anywhere else, and it has 
been acts like this, unostentatiously performed throughout his long 
career, that have made him the pride of the gardens. 
THE RAVEN AND THE GROW 
All who have read “Barnaby Budge” love ravens for the sake of 
Grip, and not even all the croakings of Edgar Allan Poe’s pessimistic 
raven can make us believe him to be a bird of evil omen like our Aus- 
tralian crow. The raven at the Zoo is a lively, cheery optimist, with a 
very strong sense of humor. He knows when he has got an innocent 
visitor at his mercy as well as the most inveterate joker living, and he 
makes the most of his opportunity, too, croaking out to the world that 
he has had the best of the deal whenever the fun is on his side. Ravens 
are becoming very scarce now — they were in Dickens’ time. The fore- 
word by that novelist to “Barnaby Budge” makes very interesting reading 
about the two pet ravens he had owned. It is a matter of some 
difficulty to get a mate for the splendid specimen at the Zoo, but for 
all that he has only recently been left lonely. The staff there witnessed 
for years a very pretty comedy of bird friendship between the imprisoned 
raven and a maimed crow, and they are about the only people who have 
