noisiest, and most impertinent of all the creatures that lived in
Pleasant Valley.

His house stood in a tall elm, not too far from the cornfield. And those
that dwelt near him never could complain that the neighborhood was
quiet.... It was never quiet where old Mr. Crow was.

Many of the smaller birds feared him. But they couldn't help laughing at
him sometimes--he was so droll, with his solemn face, his sedate walk,
and his comical gestures. As for his voice, it was loud and harsh. And
those that heard too much of it often wished that he would use it less.

Mr. Crow's best friends sometimes remarked that people did not
understand him. They said that he helped Farmer Green more than he
injured him, for he did a great deal in the way of eating beetles,
cutworms and grasshoppers, as well as many other insects that tried
to destroy Farmer Green's crops. So you see he had his good points,
as well as his bad ones.

For a number of years Mr. Crow had spent each summer in Pleasant Valley,
under the shadow of Blue Mountain. He usually arrived from the South in
March and left in October. And though many of his friends stayed in the
North and braved the winter's cold and storms, old Mr. Crow was too fond
of a good meal to risk going hungry after the snow lay deep upon the
ground. At that season, such of his neighbors as remained behind often
dined upon dried berries, which they found clinging to the trees and
bushes. But so long as Mr. Crow could go where it was warmer, and find
sea food along the shore, he would not listen to his friends' pleas
that he spend the winter with them.