Intelligence of the Crow.
JAPAN is the birds' paradise, as fire-arms cannot be carried except by special permit. Though their punishment of criminals is sometimes extremely cruel, to shoot birds for sport or for scientific purposes would never enter the heads of this kind-hearted people. I noticed, says a writer in the Science, in many parts of the country, that the crow felt a sense of security, meeting man boldly, conscious that he is a benefactor—and acknowledged as such—by killing injurious grubs, even though he collect a few grains of corn in the operation. He scorns to fly at your approach, and fears not a stick pointed at him, which he never takes for a gun. He is as familiar in Japan as he is shy in America and Europe. Another instance of this birds' intelligence came under my observation as I was walking among the crumbling arches of Caracalla's baths in Rome, in April, 1882. When near the walls, a stone nearly as large as my fist fell at my feet. Fearing a recurrence of what I supposed was an accident of perishing masonry, our party went farther toward the center of the area. A second and third fell near us; and, looking up, I saw some crows circling above our heads, one of which dropped a fourth from his claws. It seems that we had been strolling too near their nests in the walls; and they took this method to drive us away—a very effectual one, as a stone of that size, falling from the height of sixty feet, was an exceedingly dangerous missile, and perhaps only prevented from being fatal by the failure of the bird to make allowance for the impetus given by its own motion. The aim was accurate, and the discharge right over head; but, as both we and the bird were moving, it fortunately missed its mark.—Selected.