Sometimes the crows find one of these snowy visitors on the beach, and
make a great fuss and racket, as they always do when an owl is in
sight. At such times he takes his stand under a bank, or in the lee of
a rock, where the crows cannot trouble him from behind, and sits
watching them fiercely. Woe be to the one that ventures too near. A
plunge, a grip of his claw, a weak _caw_, and it's all over. That
seems to double the crows' frenzy--and that is the one moment when you
can approach rapidly from behind. But you must drop flat when the
crows perceive you; for the owl is sure to take a look around for the
cause of their sudden alarm. If he sees nothing suspicious he will
return to his shelter to eat his crow, or just to rest his sensitive
ears after all the pother. A quarter-mile away the crows sit silent,
watching you and him.
And now a curious thing happens. The crows, that a moment ago were
clamoring angrily about their enemy, watch with a kind of intense
interest as you creep towards him. Half way to the rock behind which
he is hiding, they guess your purpose, and a low rapid chatter begins
among them. One would think that they would exult in seeing him
surprised and killed; but that is not crow nature. They would gladly
worry the owl to death if they could, but they will not stand by and
see him slain by a common enemy.
Pages:
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178