indeed I had never seen in any of them the least tendency to be otherwise; when one day I was amusing myself with it in company with a child about seven years of age. It was running about her hands and arms, and had climbed to her shoulder, when in an instant it seized her neck about the place of the jugular vein, with a look and action so full of ferocity that I was only too glad to be on the spot to rescue the child; and from that moment determined to have nothing more to do with weazels as domestic companions.
Amongst those pets which were more agreeable to us than to our friends, I fear I must class my raven. In their mischief-loving propensities the raven and the jackdaw bear a strong resemblance to each other; but there is an aspect of grave and venerable dignity about the former which renders him infinitely more amusing when he stoops to be jocose. I have been told by a naturalist, that, next to the tortoise, the raven lives to the greatest age of any of the lower animals, not unfrequently attaining the dignity of seventy or eighty years. He always looks old, and his very voice sounds as if it had grown deep and hoarse with long usage amongst the winds and storms that beat about old church towers, or roar through unfrequented forests. My raven was a very social bird, fond of human fellowship, and by no means of a morose or melancholy turn of mind. Indeed he was a little too much on the alert, and too fond of meddling with other people’s business. As, for instance. when he watched the introduction to a new plantation about the house of a large collection of rare and valuable shrubs, which he saw put into the ground with the greatest care, and then, as soon as the workmen had retired, tore off and destroyed every label so effectually that the names of the plants were never known. Or when he watched with his curious eyes, peeping sideways, any operation in the yard requiring tools of greater nicety than usual, and, unobserved by the workmen, flew away with the very implements which they most wanted and were least able to replace. The extraordinary impudence with which he would reply to any such imputation brought against him, with a nod of the head, and a hoarse croak that seemed to say, “I know all about it, but I am not going to tell you,” was the cause of many a strange missile being hurled at the thief, for to catch him on such occasions was impossible. He could evade as well as defy; and when he took the latter course, he always perched himself in some inaccessible place, from which he looked down with such an air of personal insult, that it was impossible not to desire to pursue him with summary vengeance.
My raven was master of a few words, and only a few, but these he managed to use with considerable appropriateness. He was no Cockney, nor yet too well bred to speak in the dialect of his native country. Thus, his accustomed rejoinder, “What’s matther wi’ ye?” uttered in a guttural tone, was well understood by his associates of the yard and the stable, and sometimes it came with curious effect after he had bobbed his head to avoid a broom or a stick thrown at him, and then turned and looked his assailant in the face. I do not know that his need for verbal expression ever reached a much higher pitch than this. All great occasions were wont to call it forth; and once, as he stood on the roof of a low building, he was heard, after an unusually loud peal of thunder, to say, with peculiar emphasis, “What’s matther wi’ ye!” In fact, he was a remarkable illustration of how much may be made of a few words well applied, and of a few sounds, too; for when in high good humour he had a habit of whispering in one’s ear in a manner so droll, that I was quite sure he had something funny to say, though I failed to catch the idea. Sometimes I interpreted this curious whispering sound into an expression of tenderness, because it was generally accompanied by a gentle nibbling of the bill about my face, which, I must confess, required a considerable amount of faith to sustain without flinching, seeing what that huge bill could do, and knowing how easily it might have twitched out one of my eyes, had such been the whim of the moment.
The precision with which this powerful instrument could be made to take effect, was no small addition to the terror which our raven was accustomed to inspire, particularly amongst that class of individuals who do not look well to their heels. He had a quick, piercing eye, and could detect the smallest hole in a stocking. At such a hole the point of his bill would be aimed with a stroke so sudden and so sure, that a piece of flesh twitched out was the usual result, accompanied by execrations against the bird, who cared no more than if you had sung him a song: indeed, I don’t think he ever did care except for one or two things, and in these we had our triumph.
One of these resulted from a propensity which came upon him every spring to build a nest. He knew no more about the art of building than if he had had four feet instead of two, and had worn hair instead of feathers; but always about the same time of the year he became very mysterious, and very much occupied with some business of his own. He was observed to collect sticks, and resorted much to the under framework of an open thatched roof which protected a shed. Here, in fact, he slept at all seasons of the year, and the place might be called his “residence.” Here, then, he brought his sticks, impelled most probably by a dim vision that something more than usually domestic was to be done. But the sticks, though collected in large quantities, were laid about in all directions, without the least approach to compactness or form. I believe he was himself aware of the bad job he was making of it, for nothing could vex him more than for us to go and look at his nest; so of course we went accordingly. He evidently knew it was wrong. but did not know how to make it right; and when we approached the place he was both angry and embarrassed, exhibiting every appearance of being exceedingly ashamed of what he was about. Perhaps the building partner was wanting in the concern, and so the nest-making never advanced beyond the mere collecting of raw material. (See p. 89.)
Another trouble to the raven, and one which effectually brought down his defiant spirit, arose out of the attacks to which he was subject from