CARRION CROW.

GOR. GORE, OR FLESH CROW. BLACK NEB. HOODY BRAN.

FIGURE 5.

Everybody knows the Common Crow that goes _caw-cawing_ over the fields through the long summer day, and hunts in the freshly-turned furrows for grubs and wire-worms, and settles down upon the marshes where the white flocks are feeding, dotting them here and there with great black spots, as though some literary giant had taken too much ink in his pen, and scattered it out over the landscape before he began to write. Oh yes, everybody knows the familiar Crow, called by scientific people _Corvus corone_, Latin and Greek again for the same thing--a Crow!

Black and all black is he, a kind of Raven in miniature, closely resembling that bird in his habits as well as appearance. A foul feeder, delighting in putrid carca.s.ses, and all kinds of meat that is not merely a "_little_ touched," but "very far gone" indeed. The shepherd does not like him, neither does the gamekeeper, neither does the farmer, although we are inclined to think that the dislike of the latter is owing to an unfounded prejudice; true it is that our friend _Corvus_ does sometimes eat grain, but he prefers animal food, and oftener feeds on worms and other grain-destroyers. If you wish to find his nest, you must climb into the tall elm tree, or far up the face of the chalky cliff; it is made of sticks, cemented together with clay, and lined with roots, straw, wool, moss, or any soft substance which can be had. If in a tree, it is usually placed among the topmost branches, or else on a bough near to the trunk, so as to be well sheltered and hidden from view. The eggs, from four to six in number, are of a pale bluish green or grey, speckled, some very thickly, with light brown and deep grey.

The Crows, like the Ravens, pair for life; the work of building is shared by both birds, and generally commences about the end of February, or beginning of March. There is a variety of this species which is almost wholly white, and this is the case also with the Raven.

Harrison Ainsworth has written a spirited song on the Carrion Crow, of which this is the first verse:--

"The Carrion Crow is a s.e.xton bold, He raketh the dead from out the mould; He delveth the ground like a miser old Stealthily hiding his store of gold.

_Caw! Caw!_ The Carrion Crow hath a coat of black, Silky and sleek, like a priest's, on his back; Like a lawyer he grubbeth, no matter what way, The fouler the offal the richer the prey.

_Caw! Caw! the Carrion Crow!_ _Dig! Dig! in the ground below!_"

HOODED CROW.

ROYSTON. GREY, GREY-BACKED, DUN, BUNTING, HEEDY, OR SCARE-CROW. HOODY.

FIGURE 6.

The Hooded Crow, so called, most probably, on account of the distinct black covering of the head and neck, is not a very common bird in England generally, although it may often be found in certain localities, and at certain seasons, for it is partly migratory, frequenting the southern parts of the island only in winter, usually from October to April. In the north of Scotland, and the Hebrides and other islands, they are always to be found, and in great numbers. In its habits the Hooded Crow resembles the common kind, except that it is more of a coast bird, seldom being found far from the sea-sh.o.r.e, or the banks of estuaries, or tidal rivers.

Its nest is generally placed on tall trees, or the clefts and chasms of rocks and hill sides. Mr. Morris describes it as composed of sticks, roots, stalks, or heather, lined with wool and hair. The eggs are from four to six in number, of a green tint, mottled over with greenish brown; some have been found of a yellowish tinge, or with dashes and streaks of yellow, others of a uniform dull dark green, with but few spots or variations of any kind.

It is the opinion of some naturalists, that the Hooded and Carrion Crows are but varieties of one species, and certain it is that they do sometimes breed together, but there appears to be sufficient distinctive marks and characteristics to warrant the specific difference a.s.sumed for them by most of the leading ornithologists.

Frequenting as it does the sea-sh.o.r.e, the Hooded Crow, which may be known by its distinctly marked plumage of dull grey, extending all over the back, breast, and belly, feeds much on sh.e.l.l-fish, which it bears up to a great height, and then lets fall on a large stone or piece of rock, so as to break the sh.e.l.l. We have here an instance of something very like reasoning power, in what we must call an unreasoning creature, nor are such instances at all unfrequent in natural history.

ROOK.

BARE-FACED CROW. YDFRUN, OF THE ANCIENT BRITISH.

FIGURE 7.

Naturalists term this bird _Corvus frugilegus_. With the meaning of the first, or generic name, our readers are already well acquainted; the specific name comes from the Latin _fruges_--fruits, and _lego_--to collect or gather, and from this we learn that it is a _frugiverous_ or fruit-eating bird; it is not, however, altogether so, for it feeds much on insects, worms, slugs, and such small animals, in search of which it digs or delves with its large and strong beak, all around the base of which is bare of feathers, hence the name Bare-faced Crow, by which the bird is known in some localities. It is a matter of dispute whether or not this bareness is caused by the constant use of the bill as a digging instrument; we are inclined to think not, for several reasons, which need not here be stated; but, that the bare whitish skin which surrounds the beak, and which offers such a strong contrast to the rest of the purplish black plumage, is a natural distinction.

Rooks are said to be more abundant in England than in any other part of the world, although they are found in most temperate regions of Europe and Asia; they do not, like many of the Corvine, or Crow family, increase toward the north, but on the contrary, decrease in that direction: in the Scottish islands they are not to be met with. They are strictly gregarious birds, immense numbers of them building and rearing their young together. Almost every English Village, or Hall, or old Manor House, has, or at one time had, its "Rookery," where, on the tops of the tall elms or other lofty trees, the sable birds delight to build their large loose nests of sticks, cemented together with clay, and lined with gra.s.s and root fibres. There do they hold their noisy councils, morning and evening, but especially at the latter time, before retiring to rest. One would think they had all the affairs of the nation to settle, so long and loud is the debate, or at least that there must be an immense deal of quarrelling about the right to this or that resting-place; and more fighting, too, than there ought to be, among a decent feathered community.

There is something pleasing about the _caw_ of the Rook, whether heard in the dreamy quietude of nature, or, as it often is, amid the bustle of the busy town; it is a sociable bird, friendly to man and his belongings. It is an English bird--a _home_ bird, and reminds us of domestic scenes and pleasures. We have had rookeries in the very hearts of cities; there was one in the Temple Gardens, in London, close by the stream of life which ever flows and reflows up and down the Strand and Fleet Street. Not many years since it was stated in the papers that, "in the small church-yard of St. Peters, Westcheap, situated in Wood Street, Cheapside, stands a solitary tree, in the lofty branches of which, two pairs of Rooks have built themselves nests, and are now busily engaged in rearing two broods, which have been recently hatched." But volumes might be written, as they have been, about Rooks and rookeries; Leigh Hunt, and Charles Lamb, and Washington Irving, and nearly all the English poets, might be called in to give their tribute of praise to this old familiar friend and companion of our life-journey.

The Rooks are frugal nest-builders; they make the same structure do year after year. Early in March they begin to repair their old habitations, which, during the winter, we may see far up amid the naked branches, like so many bundles of dry sticks; the young pairs, we suppose, build new ones, unless they should find a nest left vacant by the removal, by death or otherwise, of parents or other relatives, for all the community must be closely allied.

"Where, in venerable rows, Widely waving oaks enclose The moat of yonder antique hall, Swarm the Rooks with clamorous call; And, to the toils of nature true, Wreathe their capacious nests anew,"

says the poet Warton, describing the 1st. of April; and generally by the end of May, or beginning of June, the young Rooks are fledged. The eggs from which they have emerged do not differ greatly from those of the other members of the _Corvus_ family just described. They are usually four or five in number, of a pale greenish ground colour, blotched and spotted with light brown and yellowish green; they, however, vary greatly, some being nearly white, others grey, and others olive brown, with markings more or less deep and distinct.

JACKDAW.

DAW. KAE.

FIGURE 8.

_Corvus monedula_ is the scientific name of this species, the latter, or specific t.i.tle, being derived, as Mr. Morris supposes, from _moneo_, to warn; the Daw, like most of the Crow tribe, having been formerly considered a creature of evil augury.

A pert bold fellow is the Jackdaw, restless, inquisitive, and loquacious; ever poking and prying into every hole and corner, and purloining whatever he can lay his claw or his bill on. He seems to delight in mischief, and to consider that to pick and steal is the great end and object of his existence. This is a sad character to give a bird, but we must tell the truth at all hazards, and confess that, notwithstanding the respectability of his appearance, with his suit of silky black, and grey poll, like the wig of a counsellor, he is a sad scamp.

Oh, what a long catalogue of crimes and offences connected with this black-coated offender, might we present, had we s.p.a.ce and inclination to do so; but we have not, and indeed it is not necessary, for all the world knows the character of the subject of these remarks, as well as Thomas Hood, who says--

"The Daw's not reckoned a religious bird, Because it keeps a cawing from a steeple."

And this brings us to one of the favourite building places of Kae, as the Scotch people call it; ruined towers, and ivy-grown steeples, holes in cliffs and hollow trees, are generally chosen for the heap of sticks loosely piled together, and having a depression in the centre, where, on a layer of wool, hair, gra.s.s, or other soft substance, the eggs are deposited; in number from four to six, of a pale bluish white, spotted with greyish brown; some of the spots being large and distinct, and much deeper than the others. The young birds are generally hatched by the end of May, or early in June, by the end of the second week in which month they are usually fit to be taken from the nest; they are easily reared by hand, and become very tame, learning to talk, and play all sorts of curious tricks.

The caw of the Daw is more high and shrill than that of most Crows; it is found in nearly all parts of Great Britain, and is common in Holland, Germany, France, Italy, and most countries of Europe. One remarkable circ.u.mstance connected with its nidification is the immense quant.i.ty of material which it collects; sometimes it builds in chimneys, and completely stops them up with the huge pile of sticks, which it there deposits. It is said that the fire which, some years since partly consumed the cathedral of York, was much fed and a.s.sisted by the Jackdaws' nests on the turrets. In Cambridge, where the Daws are numerous, building in the colleges and church towers, no less than eighteen dozen of deal laths, about nine inches long and one broad, which had been purloined from the botanic gardens, where they were put into the ground as labels for the plants, were found in the shaft of one chimney in which the birds had built. Many anecdotes are related of the ingenuity they manifest on getting their building materials into the desired position; often through narrow loopholes, and up winding staircases, they manage to convey long sticks and pieces of wood in a manner truly surprising; and the way in which they pile up the light fabric upon joists and cross-beams, and window-sills, and make it all firm and stable, is no less so. Sometimes the Daws choose less lofty situations for their nests; generally, as Bishop Mant tells us, they make

"In spire or looped and windowed tower Of hallowed fane their nestling bower.

In caverned cliff beside the sea, Or hollow of the woodland tree;--"

But occasionally they descend, when nature

"Prompts them in the waste to roam And seek a subterranean home, The burrowing rabbit's haunt, and there Of sticks and matted wool prepare Their dwelling, and produce their race, In that unlikely dwelling-place."

MAGPIE.

PIET. PIANET. MAG. MADGE.

FIGURE 9.

_Pica caudata_, _Pica melanoleuca_, and _Corvus pica_ are the several names given by naturalists to this bird; the first word is Latin, and means simply a pie; in the same language _caudus_ signifies a tail, and a splendid tail our handsome Magpie possesses, long and broad, and like the beautiful pinions, all shot with green and purple reflections.

_Melanoleuca_ is compounded of two Greek words, meaning black and white, and no one can deny that this is very appropriate, although it is not so commonly used as the former name. The third t.i.tle may be translated the Crow-Pie; indicating the particular genus and species of Mag the merry. No member of the Crow family puts on so resplendent a dress as this; beautifully do the snowy shoulders (scapulars naturalists would say) and belly, contrast with the rich velvety black of the back, breast, head, and neck. Rich is the sheen of emerald and amethyst which plays about the tail and wings, as the latter are spread out in the sunshine, and the former flirts up and down with a quick vibrating motion. And such a droll fellow, too, is Mag, every now and then you would think he were dancing, or imitating some fine lady or courtly beau; he steps or hops along in such an odd, fantastic manner.

Yes, a droll fellow, but a sad thief; it is not safe to leave a gold chain, or a ring, or a silver spoon in his way; up into the old church steeple it is sure to go, if it is not buried in some out-of-the-way corner, all among the moss, and dead leaves, and decayed wood, which have acc.u.mulated there for centuries. We all remember the old story of the Maid and the Magpie; and how nearly the poor girl suffered death for the loss of the silver spoons stolen by the bird, who, however, was not so guilty after all, for he did not know that the loss of the glittering objects which attracted his attention, would be attended with such serious consequences. He had no sense of right and wrong to guide him as my readers have, and had never been taught the great commandments--"Thou shalt not covet!" and "Thou shalt not steal!"

The chattering Magpie is found chiefly in the cultivated and wooded parts of Britain and Ireland; it is an _omnivorous_ feeder, that is, it eats almost anything--_omnes_ in Latin, you know, means all. It is a shy watchful bird, and very difficult to catch; it has a fine broad tail, but we never heard that any one was able to put salt upon it.

Such a quick eye the fellow has, and a way of twisting himself about, so as to be looking every way at once; you would catch a weasel asleep sooner than you would Maggie. The nest is made with a hole in the side, from whence a sharp look-out can be kept. It is placed in some thick bush, or tall p.r.i.c.kly hedge, generally at a considerable distance from the ground; it is of a longish oval shape, and made of sticks and thorns, cemented together with mud; on the lining of roots and gra.s.s lie the bluish white eggs, spotted over with grey and greenish brown; there may be six, seven, or even eight of them, although very rarely so many as the latter number. The breeding-time is quite early in the spring, and the same nest is resorted to by one pair of birds year after year.

It is thus that Bishop Mant describes the mode and place of building of what he calls the "Artful Pie."

"On turf-reared platform intermixt, With clay and cross-laid sticks betwixt, 'Mid hawthorn, fir, or elm tree slung, Is piled for the expected young, A soft and neatly-woven home, Above of tangled thorns a dome, Forms a sharp fence the nest about, To keep all rash intruders out.

So like a robber in his hold, Or some marauding baron bold, On coasted cliff in olden time, They sit unblenched in state sublime, And fortress intricately planned; As if they felt that they whose hand Is aimed at others, rightly deem The hand of others aimed at them.

So there they dwell, man's dwellings nigh, But not in man's society;-- Arabian-like: and little share His love, nor for his hatred care; Prompt of his rural stores a part To seize, and joyful of their art His efforts at revenge elude."

JAY.