Animal Intelligence / The International Scientific Series, Vol. XLIV.

by George John Romanes

In the inn garden I saw a dog eating a piece of carrion in the presence of several of these covetous birds. They evidently said a great deal to each other on the subject, and now and then, one or two of them tried to pull the meat away from him, which he resented. At last a big strong crow succeeded in tearing off a piece, with which he returned to the pine where the others were congregated, and after much earnest speech they all surrounded the dog, and the leading bird dexterously dropped the small piece of meat within reach of his mouth, when he immediately snapped at it, letting go the big piece unwisely for a second, on which two of the crows flew away with it to the pine, and with much fluttering and hilarity they all ate, or rather gorged it, the deceived dog looking vacant and bewildered for a moment, after which he sat under the tree and barked at them inanely. A gentleman told me that he saw a dog holding a piece of meat in like manner in the presence of three crows, which also vainly tried to tear it from him, and after a consultation they separated, two going as near as they dared to the meat, while the third gave the tail a bite sharp enough to make the dog turn round with a squeak, on which the other villains seized the meat, and the three fed triumphantly upon it on the top of a wall.[188]

These two independent statements by competent observers of such similar exhibitions of intelligence by crows, justifies us in accepting the fact, remarkable though it be. As further corroboration, however, I shall quote still another independent and closely similar observation, which I find in a letter to me from Sir J. Clarke Jervoise, who says, while writing of rooks which he has observed in England:—

A pheasant used to come very boldly and run off with large pieces of food, which he could only divide by shaking, and he was closely watched by the rooks for the pieces that flew out of his reach. He learned to run off into the shrubs, followed by the rooks, who pulled his tail to make him drop his food.

I shall next quote a highly interesting observation which seems to have been well made, and which displays remarkable intelligence on the part of the birds described. These are Turnstones, which, as their name implies, turn over stones, &c., in order to obtain as food the sundry small creatures concealed beneath. In this case the observer was Edward. Being concealed in a hollow, and unnoticed by the birds, he saw a pair trying to turn over the body of a stranded cod-fish, three and a half feet long, and buried in the sand to a depth of several inches. He thus describes what he saw:—

Having got fairly settled down in my pebbly observatory, I turned my undivided attention to the birds before me. They were boldly pushing at the fish with their bills, and then with their breasts. Their endeavours, however, were in vain: the object remained immovable. On this they both went round to the opposite side, and began to scrape away the sand from beneath the fish. After removing a considerable quantity, they again came back to the spot which they had left, and went once more to work with their bills and breasts, but with as little apparent success as formerly. Nothing daunted, however, they ran round a second time to the other side, and recommenced their trenching operations with a seeming determination not to be baffled in their object, which evidently was to undermine the dead animal before them, in order that it might be the more easily overturned.

While they were thus employed, and after they had laboured in this manner at both sides alternately for nearly half an hour, they were joined by another of their own species, which came flying with rapidity from the neighbouring rocks. Its timely arrival was hailed with evident signs of joy. I was led to this conclusion from the gestures which they exhibited, and from a low but pleasant murmuring noise to which they gave utterance so soon as the new-comer made his appearance. Of their feelings he seemed to be perfectly aware, and he made his reply to them in a similar strain. Their mutual congratulations being over, they all three set to work; and after labouring vigorously for a few minutes in removing the sand, they came round to the other side, and putting their breasts simultaneously to the fish, they succeeded in raising it some inches from the sand, but were unable to turn it over. It went down again into its sandy bed, to the manifest disappointment of the three. Resting, however, for a space, and without leaving their respective positions, which were a little apart the one from the other, they resolved, it appears, to give the work another trial. Lowering themselves, with their breasts pressed close to the sand, they managed to push their bills underneath the fish, which they made to rise about the same height as before. Afterwards, withdrawing their bills, but without losing the advantage which they had gained, they applied their breasts to the object. This they did with such force, and to such purpose, that at length it went over, and rolled several yards down a slight declivity. It was followed to some distance by the birds themselves before they could recover their bearing.[189]

I shall now bring this chapter to a close by presenting all the evidence that I have been able to collect with regard to the punishment of malefactors among rooks.

Goldsmith, who used constantly to observe a rookery from his window, says that the selection of a site for the building of a nest is a matter of much anxious deliberation on the part of a young crow couple; the male and female 'examining all the trees of a grove very attentively, and when they have fixed upon a branch that seems fit for their purpose, they continue to sit upon it, and observe it very sedulously for two or three days longer:'—

It often happens that the young couple have made choice of a place too near the mansion of an older pair, who do not choose to be incommoded by such troublesome neighbours; a quarrel, therefore, instantly ensues, in which the old ones are always victorious. The young couple, thus expelled, are obliged again to go through their fatigues—deliberating, examining, and choosing; and, having taken care to keep their due distance, the nest begins again, and their industry deserves commendation. But their activity is often too great in the beginning; they soon grow weary of bringing the materials of their nests from distant places, and they very early perceive that sticks may be provided nearer home, with less honesty indeed, but some degree of address. Away they go, therefore, to pilfer as fast as they can, and, whenever they see a nest unguarded, they take care to rob it of the very choicest sticks of which it is composed. But these thefts never go unpunished, and probably, upon complaint being made, there is a general punishment inflicted. I have seen eight or ten rooks come upon such occasions, and, setting upon the new nest of the young couple, all at once tear it to pieces in a moment.