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 carcasses, 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 sexton 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;