capable of imitating the human voice, so that individuals have sometimes
been taught to enunciate a few words with great distinctness.
On the ground the Raven walks in a stately manner, its motions exhibiting
a kind of thoughtful consideration, almost amounting to gravity.
While walking it frequently moves up its wings as if to keep their muscles
in action. I never knew an instance of their roosting in the woods, although
they frequently alight on trees, to which they sometimes resort
for the purpose of procuring nuts and other fruits. They usually betake
themselves at night to high rocks, in situations protected from the northerly
winds. Possessing to all appearance the faculty of judging of the
coming weather, they remove from the higher, wild and dreary districts
where they breed, into the low lands, at the approach of winter, when
they are frequently seen along the shores of the sea, collecting the garbage
that has been cast to land, or picking up the shell-fish as the tide retires.
They are vigilant, industrious, and, when the safety of their young or nest
is at stake, courageous, driving away hawks and eagles whenever they
happen to come near, although in no case do they venture to attack man.
Indeed, it is extremely difficult to get within shot of an old Raven. I
have more than once been only a few yards from one while it was sitting
on its eggs, having attained this proximity by creeping cautiously to the
overhanging edge of a precipice; but the moment the bird perceived me,
it would fly off apparently in much confusion. They are so cunning and
wary, that they can seldom be caught in a t r a p ; and they will watch one
intended for a fox, a wolf, or a bear, until one of these animals comes up,
and is taken, when they will go to it and eat the alluring bait.
While at Little Macatina Harbour, on the coast of Labrador, in July
1833, I saw a Raven's nest placed under the shelvings of the rugged and
fearful rocks that form one side of that singular place. The young
were nearly fledged, and now and then called loudly to their parents, as
if to inquire why our vessel had come there. One of them in attempting
to fly away fell into the water. It was secured, when I trimmed one of
its wings, and turned it loose on the deck along with some other birds.
The mother, however, kept sailing high over the schooner, repeating some
notes, which it seems the young one understood, for it walked carefully to
the end of the bowsprit, opened its wings, and tried to fly, but being unable,
fell into the water and was drowned. In a few days the rest of the
family left the place, and we saw no more of them. Some of the sailors
who had come to the harbour eight years in succession, assured me that they
had always observed the Ravens breeding there. My whole party found
it impossible to shoot one of the old ones, who went to the nest and left it
with so much caution, that the task of watching them became irksome. One
afternoon I concealed myself under a pile of detached rocks for more than
two hours. The young frequently croaked as I was waiting there, but
no parent came; so I left the place, but the next moment the female was
seen from the deck of the Ripley. She alighted in the nest, fed her
young, and was off again before I could reach within shooting distance.
It was at this place that I observed how singularly well those birds could
travel to and from their nest, at a time when I could not, on account
of the fog, see them on wing at a greater distance than twenty or thirty
yards. On the 29th of the same month, young Ravens were seen in
flocks with their parents; but they were already very shy.
I found a nest of this bird at a narrow part of the Lehigh in Pennsylvania,
in a deep fissure of the rocks, not more than twenty feet above
the water, the security afforded by which had probably been considered
as equivalent to that which might have been gained by a greater height of
rock. The nest, in fact, hung over the stream, so that it was impossible
to reach it either from above or from below. Many years ago, I saw another
placed immediately beneath the arch of the Rock Bridge in Virginia.
I t was situated on a small projecting stone scarcely a foot square ; yet the
Raven appeared quite satisfied as to the security of her brood on that narrow
bed. This extraordinary production of Nature is placed on the ascent
of a hill, which appears to have been rent asunder by some convulsion
of the earth. The fissure is about 200 feet deep, and above 80 in
width under the arch, narrowing to 40 or so at the bottom. The thickness
of the arch probably exceeds 30 feet, and increases at either end.
At the bottom is seen the water of what is called Cedar Creek, gently
meandering in its rocky channel. The place, when I saw it, was graced
by handsome trees, and in some positions there was a pleasing view
of the " Blue Ridge1 1 and the 66 North Mountain." Tradition reports
that General WASHINGTON threw a dollar over the bridge from the creek
below. I may mention, that I passed it under peculiar circumstances
connected with my ornithological pursuits, as you will find detailed in
another page of this volume.
I have already stated that some Ravens breed as far south as the
Carolinas. The place to which they resort for this purpose is called the
Table Mountain, which is situated in the district of Pendleton, and of