Once upon a time there came to a large village a plague of crows.
So thick were they that the poor women were sorely tried keeping
them out of their tepees and driving them away from their lines of
jerked buffalo meat. Indeed they got so numerous and were such a
great nuisance that the Chief finally gave orders to his camp
criers or heralds to go out among the different camps and announce
the orders of their Chief, that war should be made upon
the crows to extermination; that their nests were to be destroyed
and all eggs broken. The war of extermination was to continue
until not a crow remained, except the youngest found was to be
brought to him alive.

For a week the war on the crows continued. Thousands of dead crows
were brought in daily, and at the end of the week not a bird of
that species could be seen in the neighborhood. Those that escaped
the deadly arrow of the warriors, flew away, never to return to
those parts again.

At the end of the war made upon the crows, there was brought to the
Chief's tepee the youngest found. Indeed, so young was the bird
that it was only the great medicine of the Chief that kept him
alive until he could hop about and find his own food. The Chief
spent most of his time in his lodge teaching the young crow to
understand and talk the language of the tribe. After the crow had
mastered this, the Chief then taught him the languages of the
neighboring tribes. When the crow had mastered these different
languages the chief would send him on long journeys to ascertain
the location of the camps of the different enemies.