60 
BIRD LIFE IN WASHINGTON 
bridge. At any rate lie appeared to know 
that lie was not the object hunted and 
that he profited by visits of the people. 
There he and I used to have some very 
interesting conversations; there, I used 
to make love to him and found the wooing 
both successful and charming. He would 
meet me at the end of the bridge on my 
early walks. I often found him perched 
upon the rail and I never failed to greet 
him “Good morning, Jim Crow, you are 
just the nicest old bird I know. Come 
right along. I like you, Jim Crow, of 
course I do. Come on, pretty bird. Have 
they been abusing my big bird? Come 
right along." Thus I rattled on, being 
careful to keep the tone of voice as gen¬ 
tle as possible. Down from his perch, he 
hopped, and fluttered along in the dust 
nearer and nearer to me, talking all the 
time. His sentences were as finely in- 
fleeted as a person’s: “Uck, uck, uck, uck, 
uck, uck," he said. I could call him al¬ 
most to my fee. 
The wise old raven, which after all is 
only a big crow, has an interesting place 
in mythology. He Avas once snowy white 
says the story. Then he Avas Apollo’s 
messenger. Noav Apollo loA^ed a human 
maiden. She Avas pleased Avith his atten¬ 
tions but she thought it would be doubly 
delightful to have tAvo lovers. The fol- 
loAving is taken from a poem by Saxe. 
