Читать книгу Animals of no Importance - Douglas Dewar - Страница 4
ОглавлениеA MUCH-ABUSED BIRD.
At all times and in all ages the crow appears to have incurred the displeasure of man. At any rate writers seem with one accord to have combined to abuse that sagacious bird. And one species of crow—the common Indian one, Corvus splendens—has come in for more vilification than all the rest of the crow tribe put together. Even the staid Jerdon “often regrets that such an inappropriate specific name should have been applied to this species, for it tends to bring into ridicule, among the unscientific, the system of nomenclature.” Hodgson, too, would have none of this waggish name; he would call a spade a spade, and the Indian crow Corvus impudicus. According to Phil. Robinson, “crows are indubitably the connecting link between devils Class 3, inventors of all mischief, Prince Belial at their head; and Class 4 malicious devils, under Prince Asmodeus.” “Eha” has never been able to discover any shred of grace about a crow. “Even a consistent career of crime,” writes he, “must be less demoralising than the aimless vagabondage by which it maintains itself.” From quotations such as these it is evident that the crow will bear a little white-washing. The strong point in the crow’s case is that he might have been worse. For sheer wickedness the crow is not in the same street as the cuckoo. Compared with the villainy of the latter the crimes of the former are tame affairs. For what are they? Profanity, theft, greed and general “cussedness” fairly exhaust the list. Let us in the true scientific spirit consider these corvine sins in order. For the profanity of the crow I can vouchsafe. Only last week I heard one swear. It happened in this wise. I was walking along the dusty cart track, which we in our simplicity call the Mall of the station, when I came upon a crow making tremendous efforts to swallow a piece of paper. From the moment he caught sight of me he, crow-like, kept one eye on me. When I approached nearer than he liked he hopped off, and happened to land on the upturned end of a crooked twig. The other end struck him full in the face. The look which that crow bestowed on the offending branch was worth going miles to see. As to his language, I could not repeat it, for, in the first place, I did not understand it, and, secondly, if I had understood it, I fear the Editor of this paper would have refused to print it for fear of shocking any bargees into whose hands it might happen to fall.
The crow is certainly greedy, but then so are all animals and many human beings. That being so, it is unfair to lay this sin to the charge of the crow. The crow is, further, in our eyes a thief; he will steal anything he can lay his beak upon, from one’s chota hazri to one’s stamps, but then every animal who has the pluck to do so will steal them, provided, of course, the said animal has use for these articles. In extenuation of the crow we must remember that the sagacious bird, in common with all thinking animals, indubitably shares the belief that the chief end of man is to make himself generally useful to the other animals. This being the case, it follows that men build verandahs to their bungalows for the delectation of crows, and prepare food for them to eat. Theft is apparently not an offence that comes within the animal penal code, and if it did, theft, where man was the victim, would come among the exceptions at the beginning of the volume, for where man is concerned animals are without doubt doli incapax. Thus the first three of the alleged sins of the crow are easily disposed of. However, the matter is different with regard to the fourth—the general “cussedness” of the crow. This is his prevailing sin and one which is quite inexcusable. No right-thinking animal could possibly believe that man was created especially for it to tease. The crow acts as though it did believe this. When the weary Anglo-Indian determines to spend an “Europe morning” all the crows in the neighbourhood manage to find this out. How they accomplish this I am unable to say for certain, but I strongly suspect that a douceur to the bearer does the trick. Whether this is so or not it matters little; what does matter is that the crows find out, and take up a position in the verandah at dawn and “squawk” in concert until they awaken the sahib, and make him so irate that further sleep is out of the question. Have we not all had frequent and painful experience of the untimely loquacity of the crow? Why then dilate further upon this painful subject? I do not attempt to explain away the general “cussedness” of the crow. The only apology that I have to offer is that it is the result of the great intelligence of the bird. Now it is a sad truth that intelligence among animals always shows itself in the form of wickedness. Possibly the monkey, cat, and cuckoo are the most intelligent of the animals. Can one conceive of a more wicked trio? It is a hard saying, but nevertheless a true one, that if you want to behold a perfectly good animal, that injures nothing, you must descend to the oyster; and indeed even this inoffensive mollusc sometimes causes illness to those who eat him.
If crows are bold bad birds they, unlike the cuckoo, who is far more wicked, often get punished for their evil deeds. There is one unfortunate crow in our station, around the neck of whom some wag has tied a little bell, such as one often sees attached to a lapdog. Thus this crow is forced for his sins to go through life like the lady who rode to Banbury Cross with “music wherever she goes.” The tinkling of the bell as the crow flies overhead causes some surprise to those not conversant of the facts of the case; they are apt to think that they have discovered a new species of bird. The lot of this crow is a happy one as compared with that of the member of the tribe who is obliged to carry about with him a Wills’ cigarette tin, through the bottom of which his head has been thrust by some soldier!
The characteristic of the crow is his adaptability. The majority of birds and beasts are unable to adapt themselves to any marked change in their environment. Not so the crow. He is to all the other birds what the Yankee is to the rest of mankind. He can make himself at home anywhere. If ever a bold adventurer reaches the North Pole he may be tolerably certain of finding a colony of crows there. Perhaps the most striking instance of the adaptability of the crow is furnished by the immortal Calcutta bird who built her nest with the wires of soda-water bottles. Even as I write there are before my eyes eight crows who have discovered that a bath put out into the garden by the artistic bheestie, makes an excellent drinking trough.
The crow offers further proofs of his versatility in the divers ways in which he obtains his food. The common Indian crow was probably originally almost purely a carrion feeder. Although they to this day do eat carrion they have discovered so many other kinds of food that it is probable that some crows go through life without tasting what was once their usual diet. Nowadays the commonest food of the crow is the fragments cast away by men—white and coloured. The crow is not hampered by caste prejudices; he revels in the meat left by the sweeper equally with the rice that has fallen from the Brahman’s table. More acceptable than either are the leavings which are thrown away by the European’s servants. The crows of the neighbourhood soon learn the hour at which these are pitched out, and make a point of being present. Crows, indeed, are always on the look out for a human being feeding, for they know that when he has finished there will always be left some fragments for them. Hence the smoke of a camp fire will invariably attract some crows, for they have learned to associate a fire with man’s feeding. Insects, too, do not come amiss to crows. When the white ants swarm the clever birds may be seen actively engaged in catching them on the wing; and a flight of locusts is quite an occasion for the crows. The ticks which irritate cattle form another favourite dish for the crow, and as often as not one is to be seen perched on the back of an Indian cow. Crows will, faute de mieux, dig out grubs from the earth, and Jerdon states that “a few, in the vicinity of large rivers or creeks, follow vessels and hunt with the gulls and terns.” Crows will further eat fruit in much the same way as green parrots do. Thus it is not to be wondered at that crows are ubiquitous. They can pick up a living anywhere; hence are to be found all over India—from the Himalayas to Ceylon.
There are so many points of interest connected with Corvus splendens that it is not possible to mention them all in one article, and it is not an easy matter to know what to omit. Perhaps the most notable feature of the crow is his colour. Most birds and beasts are clothed so as to be inconspicuous in their natural haunts. Not so the crow. He, whether flying or at rest, is about as conspicuous as he could well be. The reason of this is that the crow has no enemies to fear. Not a bird or beast will touch him dead or alive. Even the jackal draws the line at the crow. This I proved by shooting a crow about a hundred yards from the camp in a place where jackals swarmed. Three days afterwards when the camp was struck, there was the dead crow lying untouched just as it had fallen, an ugly mass of blackness. Nor is the crow a predacious bird, so that it has not to try to conceal itself from its prey. It has therefore no reason for making itself inconspicuous; on the other hand, it is profitable for it to be as showy as possible in order that predacious birds may not mistake it for some edible species. Thus the crow is black and flies slowly and casually, as much as to say to the rest of the world “I am not good eating, so leave me alone.”
In conclusion, a few remarks on the intelligence of the crow will not be out of place. There is in our station an enthusiastic gardener who regards all birds in the light of deadly enemies, and upon them he carries on unceasing warfare with a small air-gun. It is needless to say that never a crow is to be seen in his garden. They abound in every other part of the station, but they taboo a circular area, of which the diameter is about 150 yards, with this garden as a centre. Outside the 75 yards radius there is to be seen a regular cordon of crows. They very rarely venture within the circle, and if one does make so bold it takes to its wings the instant anyone raises so much as a stick. Not so the crows outside the radius; they refuse to budge even when the air-gun is fired at them; they sit through it all and caw derisively.
The amusements of crows are as diverse as their food. Undoubtedly their favourite pastime consists in cawing and cackling to one another to the annoyance of man. After this their most popular recreation is teasing other birds. This they do by swooping down on some unsuspecting bird which is probably half asleep, and thus causing it great alarm. If one may judge from the loud caws of the crows, they are greatly delighted at the fright of the victim of their little joke. Sliding down a cow’s tail is another form of amusement in which I have seen the crows of our station indulge. A crow having finished his search for ticks in the skin of the cow, hops along the latter’s back until he reaches the tail, which he then grips loosely with his claws, and slides slowly down in a way similar to that in which a small boy likes to slip down the balustrade of the staircase. As soon as he reaches the knobby portion at the extremity of the cow’s tail, the crow takes to his wings and alights on the quadruped’s back, and again proceeds to repeat the game. The cow does not appear to resent in the least the strange use to which the crows put her tail; perhaps she allows them the use of it as a quid pro quo for the service they have performed in ridding her of the ticks which cause her so much annoyance.
