THE RAVEN.
All the members of the Crow tribe have a decided family likeness; and, as a general fact, the relationship can be recognised as long as they belong to the British species. But as there are several foreign birds which bear a decided resemblance to this tribe, though really belonging to other families, it is needful to give a few hints as to the method by which these may be distinguished. The young observer must look first at the beak, then at the wings, and lastly at the legs. In all these birds the beak is strong and conical, arched on the keel, i. e. the ridge along the upper surface, with the sides rather flattened as far as the tip. The nostrils are set at the base of the beak, and hidden by plumes. The wings are never very large, and mostly pointed. The tarsi, i. e. the long, straight leg-bones, are of moderate length, and covered with strong, shield-like scales.
The British representatives of this large family are the carrion crow, the rook, the Royston or hooded or grey crow, the chough, the raven, the jackdaw, the jay, and the magpie.
The Raven, once so plentiful over England, is now nearly extinct, except in some of the wild uncultivated districts, where it still lingers, uttering its hoarse, loud cry, flapping its broad wings, and committing no small havoc among the young or feeble animals that have the misfortune to dwell in its neighbourhood.
To procure a raven is now a difficult task, and can seldom be accomplished except by giving an order to the regular dealers. We do not advise any of our young readers to possess themselves of a raven unless they have ample space for the bird, and are quite certain that it cannot get into any mischief. Either a magpie, a jay, or a jackdaw, seems to be possessed with an incessant spirit of mischief, but the raven seems to have enough for the three, and as it possesses enormous muscular power and irrepressible audacity, it is a peculiarly unsafe inmate of a house or garden.
For our own part, we have been for some months undecided whether we shall have a raven or not. We should greatly like to possess one of these birds, but then we know that he would pull up all our newly-sown seeds, bully our cat, peck the servants’ heels, get into the milk-pail, tear our papers to pieces, and, in short, spoil everything within his reach. We could, of course, chain him up, and clip his wings, or put him into a metal cage, but we think all such proceedings to be needlessly cruel, especially in the case of a bird like the raven, whose instinct teaches it to roam far and wide, and whose opportunities of exercise ought never to be confined to the limited space comprehended by a chain or a cage.
When treated properly, the raven possesses a very mine of amusing and companionable qualities, at all events to those who treat it kindly, and whom it does not suspect of any intention to injure. It is a capital talker, equalling the parrot in that respect, except that the voice is very gruff and low, as if spoken from under a feather bed.
The raven is not long in taking the measure of its companions, and has a supreme contempt for those who display weakness of mind or resources. Nothing seems to make a raven so happy as frightening somebody. He likes to come quietly behind a nervous person, deliver a heavy dab at the ankle with his iron bill, and then walk away as if he knew nothing about the assault. He will frighten dogs half out of their senses, chase the cats, drive the fowls about, and as to the horses, he mostly takes a fancy to them, sitting on their backs, or walking calmly and deliberately among their legs. Indeed the raven always has a great affection for stable life. He likes to saunter in and out of the stalls, to flap his way from one horse to another, to peck at strangers, to patronise the helpers, to be on speaking terms with the grooms, and, we regret to say, has a strange talent for picking up all the evil language which is too often found in and about the stable-yard.