The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 2, December, 1857 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 311 pages of information about The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 2, December, 1857.

The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 2, December, 1857 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 311 pages of information about The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 2, December, 1857.

Though all of the crow tribe are notorious for their harsh voices, yet if the power of mimicry be considered as a mark of superiority, the crow has claims to high rank in this department also.  The closest imitators of the human voice are birds of this family:  for instance, the Mino bird.  Our crow also is a vocal mimic, and that not in the matter-of-course way of the mocking-bird, but, as it were, more individual and spontaneous.  He is not merely an imitator of the human voice, like the parrots, (and a better one as regards tone,) nor of other birds, like the thrushes, but combines both.  The tame crow already mentioned very readily undertook extempore imitations of words, and with considerable success.  I once heard a crow imitate the warbling of a small bird, in a tone so entirely at variance with his ordinary voice, that, though assured by one who had heard him before, that it was a crow and nothing else, it was only on the clearest proof that I could satisfy myself of the fact.  It seemed to be quite an original and individual performance.

The blue jay is a near relative of the crow, and, like him, omnivorous, harsh-voiced, predaceous, a robber of birds’ nests; so that if you hear the robins during their nesting-time making an unusual clamor about the house, the chances are you will get a glimpse of this brilliant marauder, sneaking away with a troop of them in pursuit.  His usual voice is a harsh scream, but he has some low flute-like notes not without melody.  The presence of a hawk, or more particularly an owl in the woods, is often made known by the screaming of the jays, who flock together about him with ever-increasing noise, like a troop of jackals about a lion, pressing in upon him closer and closer in a paroxysm of excitement, while the owl, thus taken at disadvantage, sidles along his bough seeking concealment, and at length softly flaps off to some more undisturbed retreat.

The blue jay is a shy bird, but he is enough of a crow to take a risk where anything is to be had for it, and in winter will come close to the house for food.  In his choice of a nesting-place he seems at first sight to show less than his usual caution; for, though the nest is a very conspicuous one, it is generally made in a pine sapling not far from the ground, and often on a path or other opening in the woods.  But perhaps, in the somewhat remote situations where he builds, the danger is less from below than from birds of prey sailing overhead.  I once found a blue jay’s nest on a path in the woods somewhat frequented by me, but not often trodden by any one else, and passed it twice on different days, and saw the bird sitting, but took some pains not to alarm her.  The next time, and the next, she was not there; and on examination I found the nest empty, though with no marks of having been robbed.  There was not time for the eggs to have hatched, and it was plain, that, finding herself observed, she had carried them off.

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The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 2, December, 1857 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.