So the Canary and the Crow lived together in one nest. Although the
Crow liked to grumble occasionally, on the whole she was not unkind.
Her chief fault was that she envied everybody and very often considered
herself abused.
"Will you tell me why the foolish hens are better than I? Just see how
they are cared for, fed and watched," she would complain to the Canary.
"Then look at the pigeons. Of what use are they? and still look at the
handfuls of oats they get. They are so foolish. Yet whenever I come
near I am chased from every corner. Is this just? And I'm scolded, too.
Haven't you noticed that I'm nicer than other birds and much prettier,
too? However, one should not say such things about oneself. Don't you
think so?"
The Canary agreed with everything.
"Yes, you are a big bird," she would say.
"Here you are. They keep parrots in cages and look after them. Can you
see why the foolish parrot is better than I? He only knows how to
scream and chatter and no one can really understand what he says."
"I know. We had a parrot that every one grew tired of," said the
Canary.
"Yes, one can think of many birds that live, no one knows why. For
instance, the starling; it comes like a mad thing no one knows whence,
stays through the summer, and flies away again. There are also the
swallows, the bluebirds and nightingales, but one can't really count
all this rubbish. There isn't a single really desirable bird. Why, just
as soon as there is a cold breeze, all of them seem to fly away, the
Lord knows where."
In reality, the Crow and the Canary did not understand each other. The
Canary could not understand a life of freedom; the Crow could not
understand a life of captivity.
"Aunty, has no one ever thrown you a bit of seed," wondered the Canary,
"not a single grain?"
"How foolish you are to talk of seeds, when I have to dodge sticks and
stones. People are very cruel."
With this, the Canary could never agree, because people had always
been kind to her. She thought that the Crow imagined these things, but
the Canary was soon to see the cruelty of people. Once, perched on a
fence, she heard a heavy stone whizz over her very head. Some school
boys walking past the fence saw the Crow and couldn't resist throwing a
stone at her.
"Now, have you seen for yourself?" asked the Crow, climbing upon the
roof. "People are always like that."
"Perhaps you have done something to annoy them, Aunty."
"Nothing at all. They are just cruel and all of them hate me."
The Canary felt very sorry for the poor Crow whom no one loved. It must
be very hard to live under such circumstances.
On the whole, there were many enemies. For instance, Vaska, with his
oily eyes, watching the birds and always feigning sleep. The Canary saw
with her own eyes how he caught a young inexperienced sparrow; one
could only see the feathers flying, and hear the bones crackling.
Horrible! Horrible! Then the hawks, too; very fine to watch them as
they sail up into the air, but suddenly you see them, like a heavy
stone dropping to the ground, and before you know it, a chick is in
their claws.
All this the Canary saw. The Crow, however, was not afraid of either
cats or hawks. She often had a notion to have a taste of a young bird
herself. At first, the Canary could not believe this, but she really
did see this with her own eyes. A flock of sparrows were chasing the
Crow, chattering and screaming.
"Let her go! Let her go!" screamed the sparrows, beside themselves,
flying over the Crow's nest in a frenzy. "This is awful! This is real
robbery!"
The Crow hid deep in her nest and the Canary saw with horror a bleeding
sparrow, dead.
"Aunty, what are you doing?"
"Keep still!" said the Crow.
Her eyes were horrible. They seemed to burn. The Canary had to shut her
own eyes for fear she would see the Crow gobbling up the poor little
victim.
"Some day she may even eat me," thought the Canary.
Having satisfied her hunger, the Crow grew kinder and kinder. She
cleaned her bill, perched comfortably and fell into a sweet slumber.
The Canary noticed that the Crow was very greedy and not very
particular as to what she ate.
Sometimes she would carry a piece of bread, a bit of decayed meat, or
some leavings found in a dump hole. The dump hole the Crow liked best,
but the Canary could never understand the pleasure of digging in such
places.
In fact, it was hard to blame the Crow. She alone ate in one day food
enough for twenty canaries. The Crow had only one care--food. Perched
on some roof, she was always on the lookout for food.
When the Crow was too lazy to search for food, she would resort to
slyness. If she saw a flock of sparrows tearing at something, she would
fly right over to them, pretending she was just passing by, cawing with
her whole might, "Caw! Caw! I'm busy! I'm busy!"
She would then swoop down, grab the booty, and that was the end of it.
"But it isn't a bit nice to take food away from others," once remarked
the indignant Canary.
"Isn't it? But what if I am hungry?"
"Others are hungry, too," said the Canary.
"Well, let them look out for themselves. It is easy enough for you, the
pets, cuddled in cages. We have to get our own food. You and the
sparrows--how much do you need? A few grains and you are satisfied for
the whole day."