THE RAVEN. (Corvus Corax.)
“The Raven sits
On the raven-stone,
And his black wing flits
O’er the milk-white bone;
To and fro, as the night-winds blow,
The carcass of the assassin swings:
And there alone, on the raven-stone,
The Raven flaps his dusky wings.
The fetters creak—and his ebon beak
Creaks to the close of the hollow sound:
And this is the tune by the light of the moon,
To which the witches dance their round.”
Byron’s Manfred.
The Raven is about twenty-six inches in length, and his weight about three pounds. The bill is strong, black, and hooked at the tip. The plumage of the whole body of a shining black, glossed with deep blue; the back of the lower part inclining to a dusky colour. He is of a strong and hardy disposition, and inhabits all climates of the globe. He builds his nest in trees; and the female lays five or six eggs of a palish green colour, spotted with brown. It is said that the life of this bird extends to a century; and even beyond that period, if we can believe the accounts of several naturalists on the subject. The Raven unites the voracious appetite of the crow to the dishonesty of the daw and the docility of almost every other bird. He feeds chiefly on small animals; and is said to destroy rabbits, young ducks, and chickens, and sometimes even lambs, when they happen to be dropped in a weak state. In the northern regions, he preys on carrion, in concert with the white bear, the arctic fox, and the eagle. The faculty of scent in these birds must be very acute; for in the coldest of the winter days, at Hudson’s Bay, when every kind of effluvium is almost instantaneously destroyed by the frost, buffaloes and other beasts have been killed, where not one of these birds was seen; but in a few hours scores of them have been found collected about the spot, to pick up the blood and offal. The Raven possesses many diverting and mischievous qualities; he is active, curious, sagacious, and impudent; by nature a glutton, by habit a thief, in disposition a miser, and in practice a rogue. He is fond of picking up any small piece of money, bits of glass or any thing that shines, which he carefully conceals under the eaves of roofs, or in any other inaccessible place. He is easily tamed; and, like the parrot and starling, can imitate the human voice, in articulating words. At the seat of the Marquis of Aylesbury, in Wiltshire, a tame Raven, that had been taught to speak, used to ramble about in the park, where he was commonly attended and beset with crows, rooks, and others of his inquisitive tribe. When a considerable number of these were collected round him, he would lift up his head, and with a hoarse and hollow voice shout out Holloa! This would instantly put to flight and disperse his sable brethren; while the Raven seemed to enjoy the fright he had occasioned. When domesticated, the Raven is of great service, both as a scavenger and in keeping watch, in the last of which he is more alert and vigilant than almost any other animal. The Raven was the ensign of the invading Danes, and the prejudice thereby engendered against the bird is not yet quite extinct. Of its perseverance in the act of incubation, Mr. White relates the following singular anecdote:
“In the centre of a grove near Selborne, there stood an oak, which, though on the whole shapely and tall, bulged out into a large excrescence near the middle of the stem. On this tree a pair of Ravens had fixed their residence for such a series of years, that the oak was distinguished by the title of ‘The Raven-tree.’ Many were the attempts of the neighbouring youths to get at this nest: the difficulty whetted their inclinations, and each was ambitious of surmounting the arduous task; but when they arrived at the swelling, it jutted out so in their way, and was so far beyond their grasp, that the boldest lads were deterred and acknowledged the undertaking to be too hazardous. Thus the Ravens continued to build, nest upon nest, in perfect security, till the fatal day on which the wood was to be levelled. This was in the month of February, when those birds usually sit. The saw was applied to the trunk, the wedges were inserted into the opening, the wood echoed to the heavy blows of the mallet, the tree nodded to its fall; but still the dam persisted in sitting. At last, when it gave way, the bird was flung from her nest; and though her parental affection deserved a better fate, was whipped down by the twigs, which brought her dead to the ground!”
The croaking of the Raven was formerly considered a note of ill omen:
“The Raven croaked as she sat at her meal,
And the old woman knew what he said;
And she grew pale at the Raven’s tale,
And sickened and went to her bed.”