King Cole: A Biography
By SUSAN M. MORSE
ING COLE was only a common Crow. but a bird of such sagacity that I feel a true account of him and his doings would be interest- ing in these pages. He was a Canadian by birth and was brought
home in a big boy's cap. one holiday afternoon. to his three sisters—l being one of them. Our brother had found the little fellow entangled in a pile of dead brushwood, where he had probably been deserted by his family.
Our big brother advised a worm diet for our charge, so we selected a corner behind the barn. where the mould was soft and rich and abounded in worms. and King Cole very soon learned to know the spot. He had the oddest way of going to the place. Wherever he happened to be at the time. whether near or far. he would start up quite suddenly. alert. as if struck with the idea of being hungry. Recovering himself quickly. off he would fly scolding and screaming at the top of his voice for some one to come and turn up the worms for him, As he grew older he was able to forage for himself, but he always did so distinctly under protest. He much preferred having the worms unearthed for him. and would sit on a rail near by and scream himself hoarse in order to attract our attention. If one of us did not soon appear. he would stalk around the corner to look for us. If no one was in sight (to tease him. we would often hide). back he would flounce. scolding all the time. and set to work himself with an air of deep disgust. as though he thought himself very hardly used. If one of us arrived at this stage of the proceedings. he would fly to us. flapping his wings and snapping his beak in a passion. and by muttering. croaking and screaming express his entire disapproval of our treatment of him. On our taking up the spade. his protest would subside into little mollif‘ied grunts and caws of anticipa- tion. This change in his voice was almost articulate. and most expressive. He would watch eagerly for the worms. skipping warin around the spade to avoid the earth. and when he saw one would pounce upon it. gobbling and screaming at the same time. making the most outrageous noise imaginable.
In a few weeks King Cole was a full-grown Crow and as large and glossyaone as you could wish to see. To keep him at home we were obliged to clip his wings. and it was only when his feathers grew again and we neglected clipping them afresh that he began those flights abroad that got him in such bad repute among the neighbors. King Cole's tricks were without number — his mischief endless — his curiosity boundless. A tied<up paper parcel was a prize he dearly loved to come upon. He would deftly untie the string with his beak and strip off the wrappings in less than no time. and his peepings and peerings at the contents were a caution to see. Anything with a cover into which he could not pry was pain and grief to him. I have watched him sit for an hour on the top of a covered tobacco
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