“This buzzard is a somewhat smaller bird than the common buzzard. Its back is brown, its throat light yellow with brown stripes, and its breast and stomach white sprinkled with dark heart-shaped spots. The tail is crossed by three wide dark bands, the beak is black, and, finally, the head of the old male is bluish-gray. The bird nests in woods, in tall trees, and its eggs are rather small, being yellowish-white in color, but with so thick a sprinkling of large brown spots as sometimes almost to hide the color underneath. “The feather-legged buzzard has legs covered with long feathers, as in certain species of pigeons bearing the same qualifying name. It frequents river banks, uncultivated fields, and woods, and lives on field-mice, moles, reptiles, and if need be on insects. “Here let us bring to a close our talk on birds of prey. I have told you about the more important ones, both diurnal and nocturnal, about their habits, their food, and the services or the harm they do us. It is now for you to add to what these brief talks have taught you, by observing the things that come under your eyes every day. Do not fail to examine with some care the buzzard as you see it perched on a mound and patiently watching for a field-mouse; also the kestrel as it flies screaming around the belfry and pounces, sometimes on a mouse, sometimes on a sparrow; and the kite, too, as it soars on motionless wings in the blue sky. You will get from this sort of study, first, a great deal of pleasure, and, secondly, knowledge that will be highly useful if you ever have a farm or a garden.” “It seems to me,” said Jules, “that you have left out the very commonest of the birds of prey, the crows.” “Crows are not birds of prey,” replied Uncle Paul. “They have not the hooked beak, the clutching claws, or the sharp, curved nails of birds formed for a life of rapine. I will tell you about them to-morrow; or, rather, I will begin with that one of the crow family known as the raven.” CHAPTER XX THE RAVEN “Their black plumage and similarity of shape make us mistake all sorts of birds for crows. Let us begin with one of these, the raven. This bird is of good size, being about as large as our domestic rooster, and it has a hoarse cry, uttered slowly,—craa, craa, craa. It is the raven that has won such a reputation with children from that famous fable about the raven and the fox.” “Yes, I know,” Emile hastened to interpose; “you mean the one that begins, ‘Master Raven, perched on a tree, held a piece of cheese in his beak.’ Where do you suppose he got that cheese?” “History remains silent on that important question, but my opinion would be that he stole it from some window-sill where the farmer’s wife had put out some newly made cheese to dry in a little wicker basket.”