Section 193. TELEGRAPHY (S. 3, N. 2) AMONG BIRDS.
Reading edition
Section 193. TELEGRAPHY (S. 3, N. 2) AMONG BIRDS.
I watch[1] a flock[2] of crows who, by some own correspondent of theirs, have learned that Farmer Blyth will hold a ploughing match on his grounds[3], and have in consequence summoned their brethren[4] to a diet of worms. How unconcerned they look, as if worms were nothing to them[5]! How grave, as if it were an Ecclesiastical Convocation[6], and they had no thought of earthly things[7]! Yet point[8] a gun, or anything like it towards them, and in a moment (App. § 14) the young birds even whose backs seemed turned to you[9] will give a flutter[10] of their wings, which appears an involuntary struggle[11], but in reality is as significant a danger-signal as a red flag on a railway[12], and is sufficient to clear the field. Nor [= And yet ... not] are those crows exceptionally wise. All their feathered brethren[13] have made a sacred compact[14] that never with their consent shall salt be put upon their tails. The sparrows are not so idle that[15] they do not pass the word to each other when crumbs are falling thick[16] from some rich man’s table. The doves, though they look so innocent (S. 27, N. 8) do not spend[17] all their time in cooing love-songs and cradle-lullabies[18], or in pruning their rainbow-feathers. They have a Telegraphy of their own[19], and[20] by a mere peck, or a [das] ruffle of their feathers, can direct each other to the fields where the autumn wheat[21] is germinating best, or[22] the garden where the green peas are fullest and brightest[23].—Professor C. Wilson.