The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1894-03-20
CROWS IN DIRE
DANGER.
City Island Experts Devise a New Way
of Capturing the Foe of
the Farmer.

OF capturing the Foe OF
the Farmer.
DR.. Thomas McCresson WIS the man
who suggested it.
Charley Burge and e~x-Supervisor
Jim" Hyatte were sitting with the
Doctor in Livinness' saloon, at City
Island, one cold night several weeks
ago, when suddenly Charley remarked:
81 seen two thousand crows out on
the ice down by Hart's Island point
yesterday"
The ex-Superviser is one of the oldest
residents of City Island. He lived
there before there was a bridge over to
the mainland or a horse on the island.
He never even winked at Charley's
audacity. Charley is only twenty
four.
"Why can't them Gro VS. be ketchedG"
continued Mr.. Burge. I'D like to
have about two dozen of 'em for a
shootin' match
Dye know the easiest way to ketch
crows9" quired DR.. Thomas McCrosson
solemnly.
The Supervisor-shook his head.
"There amt no easy way" said he;
mot while crows is crows"
The doctor took a sip of his pony
and continued without noticing the
Supervisors interruption: "Soak a
peck of cor in alcohol or spirits and
scatter it about where the crows are in
the habit of feeding. A crow1l eat
anything, but if he eats that saturated
corn he gets drunk and can neither fly
nor bite. You can then easily make
him prisoner.
PUTTING IT TO THE TEST.
Long after the doctor had departed
Charley Burge and the ex~ Supervisor
sat in earnest discussion of the extra
ordinary possibilities of capturing
crows by first getting them drunk.
II think it's worth trying" said
Charley.
well, I'll g'long with you, Charley,
just to see them crows get jagged"
Preparations for the expedition were
made with great care and elaboration.
Charley Burge got a peck of corn, and
the Supervisor procured a couple of
quarts of the worst whiskey City
Island could produce. The corn was
dumped into the whiskey three weeks
ago, and only taken out last Friday.
1t was found, the Supervisor said yes
terday, to be strong enough to kill a
horse.
The next question was to fix upon a
field of operations. Mr.. Hyatt said
that both he and Burge had frequently
noticed hundreds of crows fooling
around Turtle Cove, in Pelham Bay
Park; so thither they decided to go
with their whiskey soaked corn.
The two friends, who by this time
were in a state of mind yer their en-
terpri5e, started off for Turtle Cove in
a buggy last Friday afternoon. The
vessel Of alcoholic corn raised between
their legs, concealed from the vulgar
gaze by the laprobe.
"See any crows, C~harley4" asked the
Supervisor, peering into the sky near
sightedly.
Il seen about three thousand Of
them comm over from the Long Island
shore this mornin'," replied the youth.
None of these predatory crows, it
appears, reside On Long Island. They
merely fly over there for their meals,
and in the spring the farmers put their
grandparents clothes on wooden skele-
tons to scare them out of the fields of
corn.
do you 'epose, Charley, that these
Long Island crows Is stupid enough to
eat this drugged cornT
Grows is stuck on the smell of rum, I"
observed Charles, oracularly. "Just
you wait and see."
ONE GROW K THE BAIT.
Turtle Cove indents a rocky shore Of
Pelham Bay Park. 1t is a picturesque
locality, and Burge chose it for his ok
pertinent because there are plenty of
places to hide in while your unsuspect-
ing crows are recklessly acquiring
delirium tremens. He and Hyatt got
out the alcoholic corn and Charley
sprinkled it over the rocks himself. The
air was black with crows, Charley
says, but the latter seemed bound for
the garbage heaps of Harris Island.
AS soon as the fragrant corn was
craftily distributed over a broad area
Charley and the ex-Supervisor lay
down behind a big rock and awaited
developments.
Hours passed by, but the focks of
crows seemed to have hay fever, for