ghbors as well. When a fox is started you
can often trace his course, far ahead of your dogs, by the crows
circling over him and calling _rascal, rascal_, whenever he shows
himself. He watches the ducks and plover, the deer and bear; he knows
where they are, and what they are doing; and he will go far out of his
way to warn them, as well as his own kind, at the approach of danger.
When birds nest, or foxes den, or beasts fight in the woods, he is
there to see it. When other things fail he will even play jokes, as
upon one occasion when I saw a young crow hide in a hole in a pine
tree, and for two hours keep a whole flock in a frenzy of excitement
by his distressed cawing. He would venture out when they were at a
distance, peek all about cautiously to see that no one saw him, then
set up a heart-rending appeal, only to dodge back out of sight when
the flock came rushing in with a clamor that was deafening.

Only one of two explanations can account for his action in this case;
either he was a young crow who did not appreciate the gravity of
crying _wolf, wolf!_ when there was no wolf, or else it was a plain
game of hide-and-seek. When the crows at length found him they chased
him out of sight, either to chastise him, or, as I am inclined now to
think, each one sought to catch him for the privilege of being the
next to hide.

In fact, whenever one hears a flock of crows _hawing_ away in the
woods, he may be sure that some excitement is afoot that will well
repay his time and patience to investigate.

* * * * *

Since the above article was written, some more curious crow-ways have
come to light. Here is one which seems to throw light on the question
of their playing games. I found it out one afternoon last September,
when a vigorous cawing over in the woods induced me to leave the
orchard, where I was picking apples, for the more exciting occupation
of spying on my dark neighbors.

The clamor came from an old deserted pasture, bounded on three sides
by pine woods, and on the fourth by half wild fields that straggled
away to the dusty road beyond. Once, long ago, there was a farm there;
but even the cellars have disappeared, and the crows no longer fear
the place.

It was an easy task to creep unobserved through the nearest pine
grove, and gain a safe hiding place under some junipers on the edge of
the old pasture. The cawing meanwhile was intermittent; at times it
broke out in a perfec