I stretched a white cotton string across my dooryard, between two trees, and taught Jim to jump over it, turning a double somersault in mid-air. Some choice tidbit rewarded him for this, and he got so that whenever he was hungry, between meals, he would run up to an imaginary string, take the flying leap, turning the double somersault before he touched ground again, and walk up to me, cawing loudly with pleasure in his performance. I always praised him, and sometimes stroked his head or back, whereupon he would demand the tidbit, which was generally forthcoming. Sometimes it was a bit of raw bacon, a small dish of pork and beans, or a cold pancake, liberally sweetened with molasses.
On one of these occasions, Jim broke his leg. While turning the somersault he missed his calculation by a hair’s-breadth, and caught a claw on the string, which happened to be a little heavier than usual. He fell heavily to the ground with a yell of pain which brought me instantly to his side, but he would not let me touch him. Whenever I reached forth my hand, he gave a cry of alarm which warned me very effectually to keep away.
Half flying, half walking on the other foot, he made his way to the river bank, where he took some soft clay from the edge of the water and with his bill made a little mound of it. Then, by the same methods of locomotion, he went away a short distance and gathered some grass of a particularly tough variety. All the time he was seemingly oblivious of me, though I was close by and, as the reader may well imagine, watching him intently.
Returning to the river bank with a liberal supply of the grass, he first washed the broken leg thoroughly in the stream. Then he smeared the broken place with soft clay, working fibres of grass into it meanwhile, then more clay, grass, and so on in distinct layers until the enlargement was about the size of a butternut. All the time he was pale, but very brave.
It took him fifteen minutes by my jewelled repeater to set the leg. Afterward, for exactly one hour, he sat under an overhanging shrub with the injured member stretched out in front of him. His eyes were closed but his face wore an expression of great suffering. At the end of the hour, which must have been agony to him, he fluttered up into the nearest tree, and with great effort sawed off a small branch which had just the proper crotch. He stripped this of its leaves, put the crotch under his wing, and with this improvised crutch, went back to the cabin.
He lay down on my pillow unrebuked, and I brought him a cup of water to moisten his parched lips. He gave me a thirsty peck, then drank eagerly. Poor Jim! That night, and indeed many a night afterward, my calloused cheek missed one of the firm, small feet to which it had become accustomed.
He used the crutch constantly, and every day he examined his leg with an expression of deep personal concern upon his dark countenance. Its progress seemed to satisfy him and at the proper time he took off the clay cast. The leg seemed as good as ever, though a little stiff, but I could never get Jim to jump over the string again. He seemed afraid of it and shared the same fear regarding anything white. Waving my handkerchief at him would frequently drive him away from me for hours together, and thus I gained time to write, and to put down in my observation ledger priceless records, made on the spot, of the great and glorious panorama of wild life which was passing under my gifted eyes.
Naturally, I was proud of my pet. When I returned to the city, however, and resumed my researches in the library, I learned that this method of setting a fractured limb was well known among the Birds. One of the new books on Natural History described at great length the setting of a Woodcock’s leg by the same means, the operation having taken place under the writer’s own eyes. The only difference was that the Woodcock used no crutch. I learned, further, that hunters often shot Woodcock, Grouse, Snipe, and Quail who had been repaired in the same way. To many of these Birds remnants of the clay casts still clung; others bore only slight evidences of the fracture, which, in knitting, became perfectly smooth.
“Put the crotch under his wing, and with this improvised crutch, went back to the cabin.”