The difference between jay and daw is similar to that between fox and dog; or rather let us say, between one of the small desert foxes of Syria and Egypt--the fennec, for instance--and the jackal, the domestic dog"s progenitor; the first gifted with exquisite grace and beauty, was too highly specialized to suit the domestic condition; hence the generalized un-beautiful beast was chosen to be man"s servant and companion. In the same way it looks as if we were taking to the daw in preference to the more beautiful bird because he is more like us, or understands us better, or adapts himself more readily to our way of life.
I believe that about nine out of every ten interesting and amusing stories about charming pet birds I have heard in England during the last quarter of a century relate to the daw, and this, I think, goes to show that he is a prime favourite as a feathered pet, at all events in the southern and western counties.
VI
STORY OF A JACKDAW
When I laid my pen down after concluding Part V it pleased me to think that I had written the last word, that, my task finished, I was free to go on to something else. But I was not yet wholly free of the jackdaws; their yelping cries were still ringing in my mental ears, and their remembered shapes were still all about me in their black dress, or ca.s.sock, grey hood, and malicious little grey eyes. The persistent images suggested that my task was not properly finished after all, that it would be better to conclude with one of those anecdotes or stories of the domesticated bird which I have said are so common; also that this should be a typical story, which would serve to ill.u.s.trate the peculiar daw sentiment--the affectionate interest we take in him, not only in spite of his impudence and impishness and naughtiness, but also to some extent because of these same qualities, which find an echo in us.
Accordingly I set myself to recall some of the latest anecdotes of this kind which I had heard, and selected the one which follows, not because it was more interesting as a daw story than the others, but mainly on account of the shrewd and humorous and dramatic way in which it was related to me by a little boy of the working cla.s.s.
I met him on a bright Sunday morning at the end of June in the park-like grounds of Walmer Castle. I had not long been seated on a garden bench when a daw came flying to a tree close by and began craning her neck and eyeing me with one eye, then the other, with an intense, almost painful curiosity; and these nervous movements and gestures immediately revealed to me that she had a nestful of young birds somewhere close by. After changing her position several times to view me from other points and find out what I was there for, she came to the conclusion that I was not to be got rid of, and making a sudden dash to a tree standing just before me, disappeared in a small hole or cleft in the trunk about forty-five feet above the ground, and in a few seconds came out again and flew swiftly away. In four or five minutes she returned, and after eyeing me suspiciously a short time flew again to the tree and, vanishing from sight in the hole, remained there. I was intently watching that small black spot in the bark to see her emerge, when a little boy came slowly sauntering past my bench, and glancing at him I found that his shrewd brown eyes were watching my face and that he had a knowing half-smile on his lips.
"Hullo, my boy!" I said. "I can see plainly enough what is in _your_ mind. You know I"m watching a hole in the tree where a jackdaw has just gone in, and your intention is, when no one is about, to swarm up the tree and get the young birds."
"Oh, no," he returned. "I"m not going to climb the tree and don"t want any young jackdaws. I always come to look because the birds breed in that hole every year. Two years ago I had a bird from the nest, but I don"t want another."
Then at my invitation he sat down to tell me about it. One morning when he came the young had just come off, and he found one squatting on the ground under the trees, looking stupefied. No doubt when it flew out it had struck against a trunk or branch and come down bruised and stunned.
He wrapped it up in a handkerchief and took it home to Deal and put it in a box; then mother got some flannel and made a sort of bed for it, and warmed some milk and they opened its beak and fed it with a teaspoon. Next day it was all right and opened its beak to be fed whenever they came near it, and in two or three days it began flying about the room and perching on their shoulders. Then he brought it back to Walmer and let it go and saw it fly off into the trees, but when he got home mother scolded him for having let it go when its parents were not about; she said it would die of starvation, and was going on at him when in flew the jackdaw and came flop on her shoulder! After that mother and father said they"d keep the daw a little longer, and then he could let it go at a distance where there were other daws about. By and by they said they"d let it stay where it was. Father liked a bloater for his tea, and there was nothing the jackdaw was fonder of, so he was always on the table at tea-time, eating out of father"s plate. Then he got to be troublesome. He was always watching for a door or window of the parlour to be opened to let the air in, and that was the room mother was so careful about, and every time he got in he"d fly straight to the mantelpiece, which was covered with photographs and ornaments. They were mostly those little things--pigs and dogs and parrots and all sorts of animals made of gla.s.s and china, and the jackdaw would begin to pick them up and throw them down on to the fender, and of course he broke a lot of them. That made mother mad, and she scolded him and told him to get rid of the bird. So he wrapped it up so as it shouldn"t know where it was going and went off two or three miles along the coast, and let it go where there were other daws. It flew off and joined them, and he came home. That afternoon Jackie came back, and they wondered how he had found his way. Father said "twas plain enough, that the bird had just followed the coast till he got back to Deal, and there he was at home.
He said the only way to lose it was to take it somewhere away from the sea; so he wrapped it up again and took it to his Aunt Ellen"s at Northbourne, about five miles from Deal. His aunt told him to carry it to the park, where he"d find other daws and settle down. And that"s what he did, but Jackie came back to Deal again that same day; the strangest thing was that mother and father made a great fuss over it and fed it just as if they were glad to have it back. Next day it got into the parlour and broke some more things, and mother scolded him for not getting rid of the bird, and father said he knew how it could be done.
One of his pals was going to Dover, and he would ask him to take the bird and let it go up by the castle where it would mix with the jackdaws there, and that would be too far away for it to come back. But it did come back, and after that he sent it to Ashford, and then to Canterbury, and I don"t know how many other places, but it always came back, and they always seemed very glad to see it back. All the same, mother was always scolding him about the bird and complaining to father about the damage it did in the house. Then one day Aunt Ellen came to see mother, and told her the best way to get rid of the daw would be to send it abroad; she said her husband"s cousin, Mr. Sturge, was going out to his relations in Canada to work on their farm, and she would get her husband to ask him to take the jackdaw. It would never come back from such a distant place. A week afterwards Mr. Sturge sent word that he would take the bird, as he thought his relations would like to have a real old English jackdaw to remind them of home. So one day Aunt Ellen came and took Jackie away in a small covered basket. The funniest thing was the way father went on when he came home to tea. "A bloater with a soft roe," he says; "just what Jackie likes! Where"s the bird got to?
Come to your tea, Jackie!"
"He"s gone," says mother, "gone to Canada, and a good riddance, too!"
"Oh, gone, has he?" says father. "Then we"re a happy family and going to lead a quiet life. No more screams and tears over broken chiny dolls!
And if ever Billy brings another jackdaw into the house we"ll dust his coat for him."
Here Billy interposed to say that if he ever made such a mistake again they could thrash him as much as they liked.
"Oh, yes," said father, "we"ll thrash you fast enough; mother"ll do it for the sake of her chiny toys and dolls."
That put mother up. "You"re in a nasty temper," she says, "but you know I miss the bird as much as you do!"
"Then," said father, "why the devil didn"t you tell that sister of yours to mind her own business when she came interfering about my jackdaw! And that Sturge, he"ll soon get tired of the bird and give it away for a pint of beer before he gets to Liverpool."
"So much the better," says mother. "If Jackie can get free before they take him aboard you may be sure he"ll find his way back to Deal."
And that"s what they went on hoping for days and days; but Jackie never came back, so I s"pose Mr. Sturge took him out all right and that he"s in Canada now.