He encourages the presence of dogs and cats, because he always steals their dinners; and if he can find an opportunity of making a sly raid upon the luncheon of a groom, he is sure to seize it. He becomes the patriarch of the yard, and stands by his dignity as such. He won’t die, but lives on, year after year; sees successive generations of horses, grooms, and proprietors pass away, and seems to despise them for not living as long as himself. Time seems to have little power with him. His feathers take a greyer hue when he is a century or two old, but in disposition he remains ever young, malicious, crafty, active, quaint, and voracious.
He will eat anything, and can be taught to devour the most remarkable substances, provided that he thinks them very valuable, and not intended for food. Raw meat is perhaps his favourite diet, and he is greatly pleased with rats, mice, small birds, fat beetles, big grubs or worms, and similar delicacies. But he will eat bread when he cannot get meat; and if he can only be got to believe that the article is extremely valuable, he will make a breakfast on a newspaper or a shirt-collar.
He can be easily induced to swallow even a black-lead pencil or a pocket-handkerchief, by a very simple process. Drop the article as if accidentally, search for it anxiously, go away without seeming to see it, and hardly will your back be turned when the raven will have snatched up the missing article and conveyed it to his storehouse.
If watched from a spot where the observer cannot be seen, he will be noticed to proceed in a very methodical manner. He will first pick up his prize, and walk about solemnly with it in his beak, as if displaying a captured trophy of war. He will then put his foot on it, seize one corner of the paper or handkerchief in his beak, and deliberately tear it into strips, which he will probably swallow. As to the pencil, he pegs at it with the point of his beak at a wonderful pace, making the splinters fly in all directions, and ever and anon looking round, to see that no one is watching him.
Clever as is the raven, and intelligent beyond the wont of birds, his very superiority in this respect often has the effect of rendering him a victim to superior powers. There is scarcely any bird that can be hoaxed more readily than a raven, or that can be “drawn out” with greater ease. Those who humour his ways can make a perfect puppet of him, and induce him to play most undignified antics, without giving him the least idea how thoroughly he is being imposed upon.
Our last advice is that, unless the reader can afford plentiful space for his bird, and assure it a kind treatment, he will act wisely not to attempt to procure a raven. Should, however, he be able to afford it these necessaries of existence, by all means let him procure one of these most amusing birds.
Ravens require scarcely any trouble, and when they have fairly established themselves, will not desert their homes under any circumstances. They ought to be fed once, and once only, per diem, for they will find plenty of insects, worms, and other little delicacies, without giving any trouble. They should always be furnished with a place of retreat into which they can retire whenever they feel tired of the world, and they like the hermitage to be deep, dark, and warm, sheltered from wind and rain, and out of the way of inquisitive eyes.
Finally, a raven is an excellent judge of character, and if he is really appreciated, he will become a firm and faithful friend.