11.] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 89

 

expression of a father’s will, little do ye know of the
loveless, uncertain career of a youthful rook. I do
not complain. Mine is not an envious nature. But
when I think of your condition and of my own, my
heart swells within my breast, my feathers ruffle, and
I feel as wicked as a carrion crow. Little of parental
care had I! A parting peck from my mother was all
the token of affection which I received on quitting
the scenes of my early youth. But my heart was
stout, my confidence great, my feathers glossy, my
beak yellow, and my spirit unsubdued ; so, with the
determination to do my duty as an honest rook, I left
the home of my ancestors, and went forth to do battle
with the world.

I fear I should but weary my readers, if I were
to chronicle the events of ordinary every-day rook-
life. They would not care to hear how I occupied my
time in searching for the food with which to support
my existence, in travelling with my comrades from
place to place, always, when it was possible, returning
to the same roosting-trees at night, and occasionally
in sitting upon favourite branches with clusters of
fellow-rooks, cawing to them and they to me in
friendly if not melodious accents. I prefer to pass on
to those occurrences of my life which may be considered
more than ordinary, and may perhaps interest or
amuse the thoughtful peruser of my history.

It was upon a bright morning in January that I
experienced my first real misfortune since quitting my
early home. I had been sitting for some time upon
the top of a high elm tree, cawing cheerfully to myself,
and looking down upon a world white with a frozen